The Last Thing I Want

Every night
before I go to bed,
I see
your face.

I don’t know
what it is
I’m looking for,

when I look for you,
but I know that

I’m not searching
for forgiveness.
For all that I’ve done,

I’d do it again,
even when
it brought me
to your door

in the middle
of the night,
having to tell you
they were all gone,
all dead,

and you were next.

This confessional
isn’t about
putting me to rest;

that’s the last thing
I want.

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