In misery, them
leaving you.
Them leaving
you in misery. Then
time lapse: suns
setting, moons
rising, that kind
of thing. Seasons.
Blackened bananas
and avocados rotting.
Maggots writhing
in the kitchen. Then flies.
Then nothing
but starlight. Not bad,
you manage
eventually, you
see it: everything
that leaves—returning
just never to stay.
The worst of it
realistically, then
is the days.
Their empty
interminable passing—
only to come
back the same
way again: terrible
but so familiar.
Like a bad dream
in which you
find yourself becoming
aware of having
had it already.
