she loved him too young

but he loved her until April:
beyond loyalty, letting shower water tell her
what I could never say.
when the story began, I was still writing
prose like poetry, only now he’s stolen a second
life away into a dissolving sunset.
but as she fell: flesh to space, head
to back, she only said it was easy to let go.

in the back of my mind, there are two whispers left.
before April, he had loved someone else, but they
were less ghost than stranger.
I don’t have much left to say to her, so if
it’s not I love you, then it’s I’m sorry I couldn’t tell.

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Claire is a writer from California, USA. When she isn't writing, she can be found with her nose buried in a book or firmly fixed to a television. She is one of the current editors-in-chief of the literary magazine, Myrina Journal, and is currently contributing to the up-and-coming Tiger Leaping Review.
Instagram: @rcyyang
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