Replaced

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with a guttural moan, we seize.
There’s heaviness, and anger.

No goodbyes,
just an unexpected cue

It’s time to go.

You were never worth it.

Worthlessness crawls
Angry and inspired
Through tangled veins

of memories
and "could-have-been"s.

You’ll never be her.

The feeling of replacing
and old, battered need
A once important line
of this empty story.
She’ll always mean more.

But which girl
Are we talking about here?
The one I replaced
or the one
who is replacing me?





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