On the Easiest Thing:
It may be so
That
Letting go
Of me
Barely registers in his day to day
But I’d like to think
Choose to believe
Delicately weave the lie into my reality
That it accumulates
In his chest
Day after day without me
Each one another stone pressing down
Into his ribs
The loss becomes a suffocating mass
He doesn’t notice right away
But as the silence expands
Through time
Through space
It fills his lungs
It wraps him tight
Opposing forces
Within and without
Until all he knows
Is regret