It’s Never Easy


I loved you. 

I know you love me, too. 

We met as soon as I graduated  

into a broken economy. It was when I 

couldn’t coin my poems, I allowed you to  

Occupy my confidence. Even when the  

realization of adulting gained weight,  

you shoved an orange polished finger down  

my throat, forcing me to spew raw confessions 

 of love all over my responsibilities.  


Is that what you wanted? Did you 

need me to snort your essence  

that way I’d always come back for 

another hit when the world beat me down 

just enough for me to admit I can’t do a 

damn thing without you? 


I loved you. 

Your blanket gave me safety, 

and as we cuddled, I’d lay my head 

on your bosom and we’d begin every conversation 

with “hey…you remember when…?” 

getting me to sink further and further into that dark  

place of apathy allowing you to take me for a ride 

around the edges of the city but we’d never truly enter 

nor exit.  


I can’t anymore, I’ve tried and failed to breath under your  

coat and realized it’s no longer in season. I thought you pushed me forward  

but you were feeding me false senses of progress. I thought our love was present  

but I’m still stuck on the 90s playlist because hey…those were  

the best songs, right? 


But it’s time, time I get into a relationship with myself. 

Time to sever my frostbitten limb and reclaim my  

strength. So I will end my letter with a simple goodbye, 

nostalgia, my love. 

P.S. I hope we can still be friends.