Marriage ii

The men who leave their wives are vagabonds,
the women who leave are greedy,
the world bleeds their dry throats
upon the carpets of children
raised from the ground
reoccuringly accounting that here,
here is where it all went wrong,
and what their grandparents must think of their jumping ship,
what their parents,
all those promises they'd be better people,
they'd unbind the intergenerational circus of clumsy trauma.
I professed to love you until I die,
and will,
and do, every ounce of you,
from your liver to your folicals,
every inch,
every slip of your hand
but heartbreak is not a notion
that falls from one's head,
it doesn't crawl in and out like a cat on the hunt,
it stains the floor,
the walls,
the woodbeams,
the wrists,
under wrists,
the veins,
every element of matter
until what was clear
and full of light
is cloud cast and murky.
Your heart still lives in mine,
every hope we shared,
every dream cast,
every moment we slipped together,
oceans colliding,
tectonic plates underneath
crashing and making dust of our edges.
You are still dark matter,
the big bang,
the notion of how I could be good in the world
but I watched you break,
I watched my choices, my wants
break you.
It broke me.
I watched my beautiful gift to the world
colour your face as poison.
I watched you resign.
I watched you resign your love
to the shape of a postal stamp
constantly exiting
but never delivered.

And now it is arrived,

don't know if I'm still here to receive it.