stop.
there’s no point.
quit driving past
quit staring so hard
it burns a hole in my ribs.

you and me
were never real,
because you built that
castle
on sand untruths.

i thought you were a man
but mine
was an honest
mistake.

so stop.
quit showing up at my
door
with another hard-luck
story.

i believed you
the first fifty times
now i just listen
to you whine
on the other side
of my new locks.

i keep the phone handy
and the bottle handier.

go away.
at least the liquor
is honest
about meaning me
no good.