love, interrupted

complacency

I wrap myself in fleece each night

hoping it will make me feel safe

until midnight's blanket fades out

and dawn begins to break.

Memories are weighted with beads like 90's stuffed animals

often left in a place of care,

while my heart was constantly misled

by this pain that I still can't bear.

I'm not sure which is worse: not caring or not showing

which part of me you miss the most

trying to rid myself of you just like a stain

you should've just stayed a ghost—it would've spared me from so much pain.

I guess you never cared much about the heaviness you leave behind you

every moment between January and November were building blocks for more lies

all our highest hopes now collecting dust

though it looks as if you no longer seem to mind.