Eviction

the only thing my mom misses about you

is exactly what I miss about you, too

I don’t wish for things to be

the way they were, but I’m allowed

to miss you, right?

I’m allowed to grieve for you, to want for

the things you gave me after all this time

I’ve been on and off my meds lately

and I guess that’s where this is coming from

thw part of me I tried to suffocate and leave

behind when you left me

but it’s the only thing that makes me

want to write poetry, the grief

the pain that dug so deep and scarred over

new skin stretched over old skin and

wouldnt’t it be nice to see your face again?

But every old album on social media

memories remind me of why you weren’t

the one for me and why the one that comes

after is always a better one,

but are they the one

that comes and picks me up when it’s

too dark to walk home,

when the bus forgets to stop or when my

money runs too low or I read the wrong

times and I’m not sure how many calls I

made to you to help me out,

but you always did in the end

I know I can’t compare them all to you

but you were my first, and how

pathetic am I? To remember you,

to give you a poem after all the shit

you put me through,

what did I do to offer you

a permanent home inside me

that you never walked out of?

What precident did you set,

what scars are you forcing me to carve

on all the men that try to burrow in?

This is your final eviction notice,

within 3 days time, remove

every piece of you still attached

to the crevices of my being

and never even speak a syllable

resembling my name again

and this is a promise

that I’m renovating myself

and out front on my new lawn

a sign says,

“I’m open,

come on in.”

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