“I never really loved her”, I will say to myself.
It’s a commitment that I waiver on, regularly.
She won’t see me or speak to me
and I’m not sure it matters.
My throat hurts from vomiting.
the sun will never rise again,
this I am sure of. It matters, somehow
when a paradise is lost
to the ravages of a song I can’t sing.
screaming at low volumes
