I wanted to write us a poem
when we got there
full of decadic descriptives
and dreamed remembrances.
don't see the point now
when we've cut ties
severed the song
warbled notes silenced.

It had to be done.
of course it had to be done
we know that
it was the right wrong thing
or the wrong right thing.
either way we know
because we remind ourselves
it had to be done.

It's the simultaneous existence
that I can't get over;
the logical impossibility of it
thrust up against the logical
inability to stop caring for you
existing flummoxed and breathing
like two lungs stuck together
the reason and the reason
but neither feeling like reason.

I will fall in love again, I think maybe
there might be a day for me like that
off in the unknown fog of the future
but like a stone in my stomach I know
that it will not erase you and maybe
I might even want it to because
it scares me that I could still want you
despite all the reasons not to.