i can hear your footsteps.

i no longer count them hallowed,
but their cadence has marked my mind.
i never thought something could sting like your words,
but the footfall of walking away throws up
a fair fight. i have encased you in my thoughts
until now, and it is only a breaking i cannot mend
that’s convinced me to let you out.

i credit this newfound dusk to your
thievery of light from when you walked away.
i will stand here at your prism,
a place where i thought you could become
more than what i saw in intermittent flashes of potential.
i would have found you flawed,
but loved anyway, because God knows i’m not perfect.
God knows i’m not perfect,
and i’d still expect the same.

there is quartz around my neck,
a solemn promise that i will one day catch light.
i will move with feet unshod
because i am the opposite of what i hate about you.


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