The penetrating silence of a love just lost
A loneliness unprecedented 
No more swift disclosures of devotion,
quick assurances of remembrance scattered throughout my ceaseless days 
To be known by someone to that extent, 
then forgotten so suddenly 
Whiplash to the third degree 

People say that healing isn’t linear,
It’s a minefield with no marked path
a busy street with no crosswalk
while the scenery behind you slowly phases out, 
and you’re pushed to move forward into the treacherous unknown
The vulnerability of acceptance 

I’ve heard that predators can sense weakness,
honing in on most fragile of the pack 
Always seeking that ideal window of opportunity 

So you text me again 
Months down the line, 
after ages of me navigating that bloody minefield 
Imploring me to stop watching my every step
To give in to the impending blast
Self sabotage has never sounded so inviting