Unnecessarily

Unnecessarily

I fought to keep us from ending,

certain the collapse

would shatter

what was left of me.

Instead—

silence.

A peace I haven’t known

since knowing you.

Was our love real,

or just a byproduct

of your mimicry

in the light?

Lately you can find me

curled in confusion,

reeling from what just happened

or what might.

I never thought I’d come so close to death.

I tasted it. Twice.

Like the base of your neck—

scentless.

Like the part in your eyes

that never sparked.

If there was love in you—

for me, for anyone—

it lived only as potential.

I sit awake, lights blazing.

I am afraid of myself.

Gaslit enough

to doubt even my own name.

If you told me I was Mitchell Rodney,

would I believe you?

I wanted warning signs.

I saw them.

I didn’t understand them.

A man at midlife

without relations of any kind—

should have been enough.

I’ve learned my life

was at least half a lie.

The pictures only partially true.

And I am not innocent.

I am, too—

an incomplete collection

of painful venom,

unnecessarily.