You’re like bubblegum stuck in my hair
I think I’ve got every trace of
You removed but there are
Days where I find more
Stuck deep in the roots or
Little bits at the edges.
I finally cut you out but now
I’m left with a jagged pixie
Cut that doesn’t suit me at all.
I shave my head, desperate to
Remove every piece of you.
Now I look in the mirror and
I’m reminded of you regardless.
How luscious I was before you
How barren I feel after.
You didn’t break my heart,
I did it for you.
You’re moving on.
I’m not your concern.
I never was.
You can continue searching that
Bottomless ocean you call a heart
For the meaning of existence without
Me to weigh you down, keep you
Grounded for fear you’ll forget to
Breathe.
You can fly as close to the sun as you want
Without me warning you of
Dripping wax.
You can burn out to your
Heart’s content.
I only ever stifled you, anyway.
Even when it’s easier to forget I exist,
I hope you remember Hay Creek.
I hope you remember the makeshift canopy fort
Silk sheets and woven wool,
White wine and gummi worm charcuterie,
Sandalwood and lavender.
I hope you remember the squishy,
Broken bits we took out of hiding and
Handled like museum quality relics
Only to shove them back in a dusty box
Left for the next moment of
Performative vulnerability.
I hope you remember the
Bargain jeans and sticker bins
Painted pottery and
Deli sandwiches in a snowy cemetery.
I hope you remember me trying to love you
Even when if felt impossible without
Divine intervention
Or an alternate universe.
I hope you find a love that fits you
Like glass shards in a mosaic
Completing the picture I wish I was a part of.
Kylie Jorgensen
Kylie Jorgensen holds a BA in Writing and has been published in Portage Magazine and Bramble Literary Magazine. Kylie writes poetry and creative non-fiction, capturing the snarky, raw, and sometimes beautiful bits of humanity throughout their work. They live in central Wisconsin with their chosen family and far too many plants.
Portage Magazine 