adieu, my darling love,
spare me the sight of my world ending,
and leave in the dead of the night,
while i lay asleep on your white linen sheets.
so that in the morning when i wake,
i will graze on last night’s cold dinner,
and try to find the signs of your rapture,
in the flung-open kitchen cabinets,
and the half-finished pinot noir.
i pick up my stained t-shirt from the bedroom floor,
and stare at your secondhand sun-drenched sofa,
before i lock the door on my way out.
in my steps, there are no brakes.
i depart with the intensity of a comet’s final outburst
and leave no trace.
darling, there is no point;
everything you touch dies with you.
- Micah Seiri
(Photo screengrab from Wordle)