amongst the unpaid medical bills, foreclosure notices, junk mail.
In the debris of my life,
I found your signature
small and tight at the bottom of the page
certifying that you would keep me safe.
Elizabeth never warned me that the stages of grief could last so long
she never said that one little paper could inflict so many cuts
could the doctors and nurses have known,
the brevity of your promise.
how already you were plotting to rid yourself
of the troublesome woman, the mischievous girl
this walking hospital bed and her insecurity blankets
that covered you with love and smothered you in fear.
I can't be the first woman in history to pine over a broken love
and I certainly won't be the last, this is just grief looking for acceptance.
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