There comes a day.
I trace ink upon the page, lost to what my hand creates.
Tangled sentences.
Truncated words.
Shorn short.
Without beginning, without end.
All bound by a single truth:
She whom I once loved weds another today.
Ah, yes.
I knew it well.
Knew, long before today, that this dawn would surely arrive.
Yet why...
does the sting still pierce?
Why does the cold ache linger?
Why does it still burn?
Until all collapses into one long, hollow sigh.
Perhaps I should drown it in drink?
I light my phone screen.
A solitary balance staring back: fifty-one thousand.
It takes a quiet battle not to hurl the cursed thing at the wall.
Yet I stay my hand
for to break it is a tax I cannot afford to mend.
Oh, what a day.
The day my former love steps into another's life.
And in my pocket, not even a hundred thousand
to buy a stupor deep enough
to forget.
