In my history class,

We defined a failed state as

“A nation who’s system has become so weak,

That the government is no longer in control”.

When I wrote that definition down

We were strong.

I think we went to get slushies later that day.

Our nation of us,

Our nation of you and I,

The pillars of strength and bravery we built within the other,

The confidence you planted like flowers in my mind,

The support I crafted like a mosaic on your heart-

Our nation grew and flourished under us.

Our nation grew and flourished under our gaze

We tended to the fields of encouragement and laughter

Walked through forests of inside jokes and rivers of little moments.

Our phones became the museums of natural history,

Our Smithsonian of goodmorning texts,

Our Louvre of “I love you”s.

Our nation sustained continental divides,

Unknown patches of lost reception,

Time changes,

And life altering decisions.

We were ambassadors to one another,

Coming with our insufficiencies and signing treaties amid disagreements.

Our Treaty of Versailles was merely

A treaty, by my side.

Our nation fought battles,

Waging war against the voices in our heads telling us we were

Insufficient, unworthy, and unloveable to the other.

When the Achilles of Insecurity pushed into you I shot his ankle with the words,

“But I need you”.

And when the Medusa of fear made me tremble and feel like stone at the same time,

You showed me my reflection and whispered,

“You’re gorgeous”.

Our nation was small,

Just two rulers guiding young hearts towards plans of a

Citadel.

A safe place for us both to go.

We were both the Kings and the serfs,

Reaping the rich benefits of partnership

While also pulling up the weeds as they sprouted.

But then our nation hit a drought,

The words “I love you”, “I need you”. “You’re perfect”, and “I’m staying”,

Became scarce.

I ran through the barren fields, overturning rocks,

Searching for the words that just yesterday

Yesterday

Stretched farther than my eyes could see.

The rivers dried up overnight,

Although my tears tried to accommodate the shortage.

The flowers began to wilt,

And you ripped off the mosaic tiles piece by piece,

Sending me the evidence in the form of

“Read at 3:35pm”

And you, surrounded by other girls.

Our nation began to crumble

The rulers separated.

You went to the summer home while I stood in the reception hall,

Watching the sun go down and the shadows get larger.

The Achilles came back, but so had the Medusa.

I couldn’t protect you this time.

I started to confuse the weeds from the flowers,

One day I ripped everything up,

leaving a mess of dirt and petals on the doorsteps of our nation.

I heard you swept them away.

How is the King?

How is the nation?

How are the crops? Your forests? The seas and rivers? The museums?

The other nations ask me

When they see the painfully empty seat beside me.

Our crops have wilted

I remark, “I cannot tell the plants from the overgrown brush”.

Our forests have fallen,

They litter the paths we walked, blocking me from places I cannot go to anymore.

“Those places are too painful to get to”.

Our seas and rivers have dried up,

There is nothing left.

The king wrote to me yesterday,

He claimed he saw streams and freshwater.

Of hope.

“But I went to see today, and the beds are simply the resting place of dust”.

And our museums?

Our museums are mausoleums,

I visit at least once a day, placing flowers, failed hopes, and dead dreams

Beside a marker that reads:

“Here lies a great love, here lies a failed state”