Apologies fall from your cruel mouth like leaves
Brittle and dead in the midst of autumn. The tree is left
Bare and fruitless like your empty I’m sorrys.
Open another and fall down to the bottom
Of one more bottle. Your rootless love leaves me in
Tears that my eyes can no longer produce. Your voice is foreign:
Numb as the chilling air that escapes your lips.
I hear you say goodbye. The words clanking and clamoring
In my ears, I spit the word back out at you like a sickness
Leaving my gut. Sip, swallow, gulp. I will fly this place.
Vapid promises, empty immensity—
“O heavy lightness, serious vanity,
Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health,
Still-waking sleep.” Yes, Romeo, that is what this is.
With your back turned in the distance, whispers of your goodbye
Fall to the floor as new-sprung, formless good intentions fill this room
And the empty places of my heart with hope. Sip. Sip. Stop.