never was

 It’s taken you just three years—
not to say that you love me,
but that you don’t
anymore.

I try to drown out you,
this moment, maybe my existence,
reach for something refreshing,
pretend this isn’t happening

but the radio plays only songs we never had
and it’s torture to sing along
because nothing
hurts more than missing a love that
never…
really…
was

Despite your presence being synonymous
with absence, I stammer
through apologies and tearful petitions,
through awkward, but honest confessions 

You make no mistakes with your goodbye.

Hell doesn’t serve iced tea