even if you never read this, you have to know I miss you, and I'm sorry, for everything
I used to wonder when it would happen.
When was I going to wake up erased?
Deleted, there is no discourse to be had from a broken string of consciousness,
no two interlocutors interloping on bad terms and consequences.
We were mere mortals, contractually bound to one another
by past investments, now gone sour.
It was years, baby, that held the bonds together,
but salt is soluble when it sneaks into our mixture.
We used to be water, we used to be fire, but we could've been air.
We could've been strangers, but that's another equation.
The tears tear us apart after the equal sign falls into place, nothing left to do but form a new hypothesis
as to who can save you from yourself.
There was no chemistry, no momentum or gravity between our elements,
and yet we were, and now, no telling which way water boils over.
I used to wonder when that drawing board would end up in some
back corner of your mind, in storage behind so many other acrid memories.
How soon is now?