A Mighty Fortress I Mistook For God

Even the mighty fortress I thought I could be stuttered at what

I found,

rattled by rifle-black pleas, and all his satiny, compulsive

lies pressed

into the seams of our shared life—what once passed for promises—

like flowers

wilting in windowless corners I swore I’d never revisit, tucked invisibly

between the

lines of letters I didn’t know I was writing to myself, the hidden

pages of

a story I never meant to enter, let alone survive, unravelling after:

 your goodbye.