i'm tired, e.

come to meet me i'll be here, as per usual out on the tip of the very thing you threw me out for last time still breakable but only now i know the difference between you and me and fireflies and fireworks and boundaries between all of these tangible thankless miracles of things past and curled up around the corners like me in your mind maybe now in the days and the spaces between sense and absurd making typos now changing the meaning of things that once made rhymes of us and then what fell on my head in your hurried exit you forgot to look back for me forgiven now or so it would seem but only it's still me and only now i know better than to trust your half-smile and let your eyes burn holes through the spaces where my own used to lie in my head and you lied your way into my heart and my bed is my witness unmade and still waiting with nothing but time for you to come crawling back in to the cracks between what may have once held up in a court of absurdities and farce and other fake-makers and you and still me with only time to thank now for letting the suffocating crushing obnoxious loud sonic boom blast get through my eardrums and my spine and the walls and at last i'm over the undoing of my own teeth grinding which once upon a time had to make up for you and the overwhelming silence and unspeakable void left by your absence and of me and the still and what vast untempered planes left within me placed hopes and dreams of what we could be and plane crashes and figurines smashed and falling down from the windowsill ledge and now left to collect the dust of what was and what is you still thinking that i am still blinking back tears of us and regret over you silly things like time and space and barefoot explaining by cowboys and writing it down has changed me somehow and left the me that you knew in the past with the rest of us and you not even a thought or a line in my story which began when you left me to find out how i don't need you at all and how much better you made me like mice misplaced maybe or geese and flight lessons found out in piles of fresh sidewalk snow in the desert without you alone and reveling still in all that is me without you somehow sense-making stuff like snowballs and gold cufflinks and chains of paper planes falling to the ground and all that could mean for what's next and me here and now.