Why stare if you won’t say it?

Silence is not a message.

Stop. You’re buzzing in my head.

When something breaks, I walk away,

fold the scene, call it nothing,

file it where the air is blank.

I don’t care how you feel.

I wish you gone. Cleanly,

like erasing a line that never fit.

Your smile makes me nauseous.

You look like a sad animal in the mirror.

Human, but too close.

You’re disgusting.

I don’t know how to remain.

To lose you,

I suspect I must lose the witness too.

The one who keeps naming you “you,”

and me “me.”

If I go first,

what’s left to hate?