Poem II, from contributor Kevin Sullivan:
I woke up this morning to the sound of your feet touching the floor.
I pretended to be asleep, but you’ve always had a heavy step and I’ve always been a less than convincing liar.
You still left all the same; no goodbyes, no shame.
I got up as soon as the door closed. I set my bed on fire and forgot my mistakes.
I can’t blame myself for being weak when pitted against someone so strong. So I’ll keep making excuses night after night and keep making my bed of ashes.
I’ll welcome you back with open arms but turn my gaze to the floor because I can’t look you in the eye anymore.
My embrace will be as hollow as my I love you’s.
And you’ll go on forgetting you were ever wrong. You’ll go on thinking that everything is right in the world while I suffocate in my discontent.
This is the bed I’ve made; this is the bed I’ve burned; and this is the bed I’ll always crawl back into.
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