A Sick Satisfaction

I drive to work, past the duck pond and I see our silhouettes

whispering in the windshield as we coast out of town,

down towards the harbor

we crept out of our beds and left long before daybreak

just to watch the swans and kiss as the sun rose.

we fed them that entire box of saltine crackers

the one I bought to make you make little pepperoni sandwiches

while I waited for you to get out of therapy the week before

I sat in that car for an hour and a half just to make sure you were happy.

and that’s another one I can’t seem to shake.

I have too many memories of you.

I mean what kind of sick satisfaction is this

holding onto a feeling and a memory that was

a person

that does not listen

will not love you

well, I live them over and over and over

& I’ll see you tonight when I close my eyes

but I don’t ever want you to come back.


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