i don’t know
when
exactly
i started
crying
i felt that
first
tear
so foreign
in it’s
familiarity
traveling
slowly down
down down
my cheek.

i can’t
say why with
any certainty
that i
began
crying
alone
on the couch
on a sunday
afternoon.

maybe i
am too
raw
from a bad
week.

or i gave
more
of myself
than
i had left
in the tank.

this sad
this
unbearable
heaviness
resting on my
chest
along with
the
streaming
black tears
everflowing
heartchatter
in heaving
sobs.

i can’t
catch
my breath.

but i
most
definitely
can still
write
shitty
poetry.

so i
am still
disappointingly
existing.

probably why
i started
crying
in the first
place.

is it existing
without
my breath
on your
shoulder
your taste
on my
curious
tongue.

or am i
just
an isotope
degrading
in this
halflife
until all
that remains
of my once
radioactive
remains
is just
a husk.

i don’t have
answers
just
an emotional
vacancy
and the most
talented
mouth
on the planet
crying alone
on a beautiful
spring
afternoon.