when i knew i was going to lose you, i thought

this is how you lose:

slowly but surely slipping, gently losing your footing

your grip slackening.

certainty is the final blow, a slow cut

across arteries, blades across flesh, bleeding.

“i will lose this”, the last words of all

possibilities as it eke out its last heartbeats

“i will lose this,” the last words of all

that could’ve been as its receding footsteps’

empty echoes bid its final goodbyes

“i will lose this,”: coffee, soda, bottles

all empty and upended and final.

this is how you close a chapter.

this how you end the story:

by losing what you’d rather not, but truth

is a liberating foe, an enemy sworn to your side

binding instead of freeing, yet somehow still

an open cage you’d rather not step out of.

this is how you lose:

in silence, in suppression, in truth.