you’ll never hear me
…say this.
you’re long gone.
slowly.
deep breath.
one more time.
I reach for the knife:
it’s all that you left me.
you’ll never see me
…feel this.
oozing across the floor.
I miss you
— I do.
in sickness and health.
I miss you
— it’s true.
I miss you
something more
than you deserve.
here where
my heart used to beat
this wound
always seems to bleed.
dripping
crimson across the floor.
I miss you
—I do?
certainly I’m poorer.
I miss you
—so fucking true.
I miss us
beyond what
this was ever worth.
counting breaths
counting years
counting what
never healed
I’ll keep the knife…
in case you come back.
Author’s Note: When we formally partner in marriage, we speak vows of commitment and seal them with the words “I do.” This poem reflects on what remains when those vows are broken — the lingering echoes, the regrets, the ache that follows. Those original vows do linger like scars. Often new ones are sworn in their place. And sometimes, it’s simply swearing.
This was originally posted to Substack July 6, 2025. I have updated slightly and added a Suno AI audio track.
