I won’t miss you when I’m gone 

Soft rivulets of moon streak and struggle with everything when the sun falls and the darkness creeps in
You never have to guess if night will take your gaze into his mouth and seductively ask you to slow dance at sun down but you’re always asking him
“will the dawn ever fucking break?”
Night seems to stretch around you with his
arms that go on and on and
because day doesn’t love you
Not the way night romances you through heaving depths of swell and throws you into every obstacle that has ever met you while meeting you once more
with that wry smile on the other side of those battles
We are not like fixtures,
you and I,
we are more like furniture
We are disposable and migratory
We are here and then
we are tossed aside and labelled lost or buried or burnt
eventually we are forgotten unless we’re named Saint or irrefutably sinner
So no,
I won’t remember you when I’m gone
But the catch is
you won’t remember me either

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