she makes me cry

and i want to let go,

want to take bits of wire and string,

glue ends to ends to ends in between

the notches of my spine, and mold wings

from the scraps of all my broken poems,

and fly

away, away, away,

so far away,

until i can see her no more.

and i want to let go,

of all her smiles,

of all her laughs,

of all her words,

of the listerine on her breath at night,

of the smell of clean sheets and cat piss,

of the lotion she’d use all the time,

of the book pages she’d turn on the

axis of my crooked, twisting, broken spine

(crooked, twisting, broken, wingless spine)