i’m tired of the phrase ‘haunted’ referring to people who are still alive. they’re fine. they’re just not sucking the life out of you anymore. I’m not haunted by your memory. i’m cured from it.
i walk in the bathroom thinking you’ll be there.
i shut the door to my room and think you’ll open it.
I take my bra off and think you’ll be walking into the room soon—immediately trying to grope me.
i knew your treatment of me wasn’t normal.
trying to convince me you’ve changed again.
i knew that shit wouldn’t last. I tried anyway.
You always said i’m the one to give up too easily—
I believe what we had was unmendable towards the end, a tangle of wires under a messy office desk or a ball of gold chains raveled around in one another—sometimes valuable parts still need to be discarded. Too beautifully corrupt to look at.