Progress Poem by Lora Cooley

Don't call this progress
Don't pretend we aren't disturbed by the sight of our scars
Tracing their lines between my house, your heart, and into your home
Where you laid sleeping
Gently turning
Wind reaching with its fingers to hold you
Like I had held you
Fading away
But never disappear
Like lightening strikes us down
These legacies like thunderstorms
We swore
'We will never be the same again'
I can feel you
And I hate it
Our hands use to touch so much
But hear the dissonance drain violently
Like oh my God I would kill to make you smile
Reach out to me
Make good on the lies
Like 'I'm fine'
But don't trust your heart
It's drunk and sips from poison cups
Spilling secrets all across my dress
It says
'I must confess, I never thought you needed me.'