Darling, Don’t Come Back
Darling, if ever you find yourself delirious and overwhelmed with the temptation to reach out to me, I hope you choose to crawl back into the grave that you dug for yourself instead.
By Gina Clingan
Darling,
if ever you find yourself
delirious and overwhelmed
with the temptation
to reach out to me,
I hope you choose
to crawl back into the grave
that you dug for yourself instead.
Darling,
don’t come back.
You made your bed
and now
I hope you cry yourself to sleep.
Feel free
to count yourself
among the dead,
because now
that’s all you are to me.
I hope you run out of air
before you run out of memories.
I hope I disturb
your peace.
In your eternal rest,
I hope I’m the one
who haunts your dreams.
I hope the earth collapses
and consumes everything.
Darling,
I hope the soil
makes a home of your lungs.
I hope you forget the words
to every prayer,
every comfort,
every lullaby
your mother has ever sung.
I hope no one
hears your calls.
I hope you remember
through the crushing weight of it all,
that the pain you feel
doesn’t compare
to the damage you inflicted
when you walked away.
Now,
I find solace
in the depth of your grave,
though six feet
isn’t far enough
for the ones
who cannot be saved.
Darling,
it is what it is.
I hope my name
rests on your lips
as you choke and gasp
for your last breath.
Ghost,
despite your pulse,
always remember
you chose a coward’s death.
My condolences.
I’ll send flowers to your Momma.
Leave them on her porch:
A burning bouquet of forget-me-nots
in remembrance
of all the things you forgot
like the way
you said you loved me
before you disappeared.
Darling,
I hope you know
for the first time
in a long time
I’m genuinely happy
that you are no longer here.
Of every girl
you’ve ever hurt,
I hope I’m the one you fear.
Darling,
don’t come back.
You
are no longer
welcome here.