a toast to us.
so, what is the point of all of this then?
just to say we've been, with insurmountable pain, like all the others, to remember have-beens?
and what comes of that if this is how we end?
miles apart but worlds separated, i try to pretend
you never existed.
but when i pop the cork and the clear white aroma reminds me of everything about you,
toasting a delicate here's to us to the empty, breathing air,
this makes it all the more difficult.
i know you'll read these lines. carefully.
line by line
word by word
un pour un
like they are the lines of my face, the swoop of my back,
and allow them to linger
for the last
time.
you never existed.