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The first time he left me,
I convinced myself it was
because he ran out of fuel
halfway through his journey
to mars, and me,
and the only way was to leave.

The next time he left me,
he fed me excuses like soup
about how he'd conquered entire
planets, and defeated aliens,
So he could be here,
And left basking in my guilt.

The third time, I found,
he'd tried to bring me the sun
as an apology, and singed
his hand as a proof,
and a one-way ticket to apology.

Fourth--well, I believed it was
the fault of the orbit, of the timing,
of the chance,
of everything but him.

The last time he left me,
I cut off his radar
and told him if he pressed
the red "emergency" button this time,
he'd only be greeted with
static.

-(SH)

Format by Breeze

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