à la fin
By Caitlin Thomson
Illustration by Isabel Mitchelson
In the end I sleep with men who are not you,
And soon I won’t see your eyes in their faces.
I don’t get lonely ever now we’re through,
even though you linger in thoughts, in traces.
A blink, I chew my gum a little fast.
You smile without your eyes, ask ‘how’ve you been?'
Fixing my heart, you want to sign my cast?
A medical resort but this break is unclean.
I glance at you, can you tell I’m faking it?
Because there’s hard feelings still and drunk on wine
I rage and cry and miss you but I’ll grit
my teeth and swear that, ‘really I’m so fine’.
Our love is ghostly. Touch me, blue and cold.
I ought to blow the candles out like I’m told.