i am telling you no

but i loved you

though i suppose

cracking in between

there are

always buts

*

we are the ghosts

of those who

left remains buried

*

can’t i even feel right

for i am unable to describe what

it is to be

but not too

can’t i even feel right

without worrying that repetition dulls

though this is different

can’t i even feel right

even as all of it has already been described

in books i’ll never read

and in songs i no longer listen to

and i will be alone

despite all who are were lingering

to define

the same