That meteor we saw in April
didn’t mean anything
nor did the fireworks in July
nor did every single
I love you goodnight text
not a single one
meant anything.
Let that sink in as a bad diet choice.
Or a fungus that didn’t grow just
right.
And that’s fine, fine—
but what I saw
you
were there
so
what does that say
fool
or
fruitful soul
my love
you couldn’t get
close
to—
your
avoidant disorder
versus
my anxious disorder
they both
cancel
a subscription
but—
at least I felt
the loss
the empty
house I left you
in I bet
you felt
the mean part
that was the thing
you couldn’t ignore
like the food I never cooked
or the bathroom I
never cleaned
which was
your focus
they’re lies
an out
to say
I’m done
in text
your style
—I could read you a mile
numb drunk
unable
to
process
a
spider
crushed in the sink
you’ll live this way
haggard
and young
like a bad split
end
where you raise
your hand
for help
because the nurse
ignores
the call light
because it was all too late
and not early enough
to say I was
mostly alive.
Ryan Lee graduated from the University of Montana and spends his free time writing poems and fly fishing. He also studies radiation. His poems have been published in Olentangy Review, Cowboy Poetry Press, Annapurna Magazine and Z-composition among others.
