I am tired of writing this story.
The one in which you never stop leaving.
The one in which I never stop waiting.
I am tired of writing this story.
The one in which you don’t love me at all.
The one in which I love you more than I love myself.
I am tired of writing this story.
The one in which you never stop hurting me.
The one in which I never stop looking back.
This story is getting old now.
Everybody’s tired.
I am tired.
By the time I am done with this sorry attempt at a poem, there won’t be any applause.
Everybody’s heard this story a million times before.
Even strangers shiver at the mention of your name without knowing why.
I don’t just shiver.
My knees stop working.
My feet don’t move.
I realize I am right where you left me.
I am telling this story from the only place you know from the inside out.
I am telling this story for the millionth time and in my own ways, I am crazy.
I’m tired of telling this story.
The ending isn’t ever any different.
I am at the end of this sorry attempt at a poem and nobody is clapping.
There isn’t anything beautiful about hanging on to what you have to let go of.