should i say something

i promised to i and the i in her

that sits at the rim of her mouth swinging

and drinking slurping my words back in silence

that only a dead bird knows how to sing

that i would never let her fly away again

for there is no room for carry-on

or the life packed away neatly but always

unbundling to the mess that follows that fumbles

that stains all beginnings with ends all nothings with too much before

and all alls with the same splatters of a little less please

stop it now

we were done then

finished

promise me just that

you will move on

where to

where i am not

but i am not when you aren’t

but i am

and i am

after everything

repeating i only have

that i am

that i survived

that it is not enough

for all i am

but mostly

not