We grew up two blocks
from a lifetime of regret,
and though it never claimed us
I can taste it on your breath.
With every deep inhale,
every silent scream,
I know that I am losing you
and it rips me just to see.
But perhaps it is better.
Dreams don’t build a heart,
and we’re both so miserable, dear
every time we start.
Love takes hard work:
devotion, not just dreams;
so I’ll carve my initials
into my own damn arteries.
We grew up two blocks
from a lifetime of regret,
and though it never claimed us
I can taste it on your breath.