How many times
Can I slash my hands
As I attempt to grip
This double-edged sword?
When will I stop
Having nightmares about you,
Then wake up and
Look to you for comfort?
It’s strange,
Seeing you in my bed…
When all I’ve been doing
For months
Is adapting
To your absence.
If no man
Is an island,
Then I must be
A city…
A ghost town perhaps…
Atlantis,
Sunken and long forgotten,
Except in outdated fables
That no one tells anymore.