two birds, one stone

it’s not like you left destruction
in your wake
when you swept out like the tide.
You left gasping, flopping sea creatures
stranded on land, unsure how to breathe.

But evolution happens.
We grew legs and lungs for gills
we learned to find our own
sustanence and refreshment
happiness.

You may have thought you
ended this, ended me.
You didn’t.
You gave me a gift of
new beginning
with no ties that bind,
no loose ends,
no leftover wonders.

Empty doesn’t always mean
broken.

If you wonder why your name
or past never crosses my lips, or paper, or
thoughts that pass my mind
it’s because they’re not worth enough
to be recorded, remembered
relived.

It’s because, although you exist
you’re not present.

But you never were, were you?