When he left

When he left, I cried, 

I was ten or eleven or theoretically 
too young to recognize loss. 
But I felt it. I knew its name. 
I inhaled and by the time I could
breathe again I sobbed and,
and they told me it would be alright. 

When he left my, oh my. 

I entered that match and
being a fighter, a survivor, a
sheer force of god damn will, 
I fought loss with loss. I grew
up with unavailable love, love
too tired, too busy, too demanding. 

When he left my heart, I moved. 

I didn't move on, I didn't learn
to accept that sometimes good
people make bad choices and 
bad people will find the ways to
pave the sidewalk cracks with poison. 
I gathered my bones, and I moved. 

When he left my heart leaked, with confusion. 

I wasn't prepared for the silence. 
For the first time my black hole
excavations went too far, too deep
into caves and caverns I wasn't
prepared for, trained for, armed for. 
I learned that ghosts were real. 

When he left my heart leaked through, into everything. 

Hell hath no fury like a heart scorned,
because believe me when I tell you
its tar suffocates all in its path. 
Sometimes he still visits, but its
... hollow. It's frankly just not the same. 

When he left my heart leaked through my, my words. 

I sharpened my tongue and spoke
truth to how lost he was to
how much he cost me to
how broken and ashamed 
and cautious he left me
unavailable to myself. Honestly,
I didn't even know that was possible. 

But. 

When he left my heart
leaked through my eyes, impaired my
vision of love, life. 

Midnight personified, my tired hero, 
he ruled over them all with 
soft words, masked by joyful tears. 
We found each other in the dark, 
two, unavailable hearts feeling
for what felt like the very first time. 

When he left, I cried.