all those laments about leaving.
dreams of crossing your name off of every memory,
every face. scramble the letters,
find a new alphabet for yourself all together.
it’ll take years to untangle these threads
to moments and memories and mortuaries,
in your dreams it takes a second, a single clip
of the switchblade. they all fall to the ground.
all those laments about leaving.
in three years they won’t remember a thing.