By Terry Wright
It’s time to set these lines on a funeral pyre
light it on fire
and send it to sea.
I’m tired of living the same life over again,
writing the same poem
even if I have different prompt.
Ten years after you left I was still telling the same story.
I don’t want to spend the next ten years
telling this one.
If I have to write about lovers, I have
other ones than you.
If I have to write about loss,
I have other losses than you. I have
other futures to plan now
that you smashed the one that was ours.
Drive by my house as often as you want;
even if I’m not in the city you suspect,
I’m in another country altogether.