1. I catch myself in wandering selfishness, my mind ambling
mindlessly into the space between my inhale and exhale.
An ambulance calls in the distance, muffled
but still sharp, like broken glass against a duvet, and I immediately
think of you, as though someone else’s pain
prevented yours, as though God’s glass
had been filled for the night. The sky
bruises deeper and the moon hangs lighter.
I could have never loved you more than I hated myself.
3. I think I felt too much like those
pumpkins we carved on Halloween how
grotesque their faces were how
deep we had to cut to find
something soft how the orange
stained everything we touched for days how
their scowls deepened with their spoil take me
apart layer by layer and eventually you’ll see how
there’s nothing to salvage and how
good it felt to carve out the mush to leave
the seeds strewn on the kitchen table to separate
inside from outside to separate myself
from myself is it selfish to think that you
missing me is better than me
disappointing you blood
is spilled looking like the wine I dropped
onto your carpet on our first date and how
I kept apologizing I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry
4. I’m sorry.