it was the first time i had talked to him
in months,
and things i haven't done in so long
started reappearing.
i wanted to die, i wanted to throw up,
i wanted to slit my wrists
into two even ends.
the world was blurring around me
when he said he was in love
with the pretty girl next to me.

when we spoke,
he didn't say my name
as if he'd forced the name
from his mouth
after we broke up.
but when i said his,
it sounded like a plea
that broke the last shards
of my memories.
i gripped the table
as we spoke,
like i gripped the handlebars
of the very first bike
i learned to ride.
i tried to talk to him
without being sick
but i could feel the poison
running though my veins,
shredding me apart
from the
inside.