I didn’t sleep last night
because I left you.
I didn’t eat this morning
because you didn’t pursue me when I left.
Your indiscretions unapologetically
kept me from scrambled eggs and coffee.
My couch has an indentation
from the fetal position
that held me from dying of despair
all night long and late into the morning.
I didn’t sleep last night
because you broke me.
I didn’t eat this morning
because I was sick from loving you.
Your indiscretions unapologetically
kept me in deep breaths
and “don’t you dare call him” chants.
My pillow is stained
from the tears that I begged
to drown me.
I didn’t sleep last night
because you lied to me about that girl.
I didn’t eat this morning
because living intentionally
tastes like loving you.
Your indiscretions unapologetically
kept me from making due.
My phone sits in another room
just to keep me from calling you.
I didn’t sleep last night
because I left you.
Poetry on Paper 