brisk sage
that's the problem.
i can never not love you.
and it terrifies me—
knowing i can't ever
get you out of my system.
you've built a home inside me,
flowing through my bloodstream,
running the length of my veins—
uninvited,
but not foreign.
i wake up practicing absence;
rehearse small violences:
skip a call, delete a thought,
forget to text, forget your home.
it does nothing.
instead i feel—
dismembered.
like the very core of me is—
missing.
you live in the arithmetic of me:
pulse, inhale;
a habit both named and unnamed.
i don't want to be this souvenir.
i don't want you catalogued under my skin.
i don't want to alphabetize your absence,
or keep your initials under every breath.
call it what you will—
obsession.
humming in me,
consuming me,
it will not leave.
i’ve tried to cauterize the ache,
but you keep bleeding through.
it’s not love anymore—
it’s the pulse you broke that still beats.
ruby harbor
urban cairn
final basalt