Closed convenience

A poem

This is one I have been going back and forth on whether to share for a while. It’s really vulnerable, but one of the things I love about literature is its inherent vulnerability. So, I hope you enjoy this one.

CW: grief, mentions of suicide/self-harm

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We told each other we were in love most nights before falling asleep

Neither of us was lying but he probably was 

I won’t write poems to him anymore, so I write to someone else

Who has been in love and who has fallen out of love and who would have killed for someone who would not notice if they disappeared 

Who considers themselves independent but reaches out when they get too sad or too high, or both at the same time 

Who fucks an asshole just to know they can be with someone other than 

I went through my texts tonight and deleted all of the ones that don’t matter anymore

I saw his name and skipped over, texted him to see if he were still alive, if he cared or if I was a whirlwind of inexplicable nostalgia

Mostly to see if he was still alive, because there were mornings I woke up from nightmares he wasn’t

And there were countless days he told me he wanted to be dead

I was seventeen and did not know how to keep someone alive

I am nineteen and I do not know how to keep someone alive

I audibly admired his bright blue eyes, eyes who dulled over the months, eyes eternally bright in my mind

I asked him how his days were, and I told him it would get better and prayed to something he would wake up the next morning 

I layed on his chest and I memorized the speed and the feeling of his heart beating under a thin cotton tee shirt and I closed my eyes and listened to it like a lullaby 

But I never slept

I traced the lines on his palms and kissed his thumbs and his forearms and his cheek 

It took months of naiveness to accept no amount of kisses or phone calls, no words 

Not even my heart, raw and bloody, exposed in the now open cavity of my chest

His name engraved on arteries with a pocket knife long enough to impale us both

Would make him want to stay

I deleted your number, tonight

I am writing to you for the last time to tell you I despise you even though a part of my heart will always be yours even though you stole the pocket knife 

I am writing to tell you I miss your mother and your dogs and some other things 

I am writing because you told me you did not want contact with me anymore, I am writing because you will never see this letter, I am writing so that I can print out this piece of paper and burn it

I am writing to ask you if any of it was ever real, or if you just wanted a body

I am writing to release myself from the responsibility of feeling responsible for your wellness and your life, I am writing because it is convenient for me, and I will not do anything for your convenience anymore

I am writing to tell you I regret it, being your convenience store

I am writing to let you know that it has closed forever

Do not watch it burn to the ground with me, do not dance in the ashes

This moment is mine, as are the rest of them

Thank every god you left my life so I can take it back

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-B