by Gayle Peterson

The first time you left I fell down on the driveway and cried

The second time you left I fell down on the bed and died

The third time you left I (already being undead you see) hurt somewhat less

The fourth time you left I yelled and screamed and tried not to obsess

The fifth time you left I had my gift and had to make good

The sixth time you left I finally understood

You don’t love me

Right?