I am raw. Clipped to the bone. An animal declawed, defenseless.

You leave me here like this, knowing I can take it.

You tell yourself this - it makes the going away easier.

The magic trick of this or that, your black-hat disappearing act.

And what if I were to do same? Would you walk, zombified by grief?

Or would it be some relief – your known forever now unknown –

such years of weight lifted. I offered you sanctuary and you took it,

What then now have I?

An empty envelope, it bears my name, but no telegram.

Today it is that I send out word to you:

I STOP could STOP love STOP you STOP.