I grew new lungs — a poem

I left you in winter
Deleted, forever.
Removed all traces
Of your hands
From my skin.

Scrubbed you from senses
Sent back your letters
Meditated and
Exercised, wrote.
Let tears soak pillows.

I stopped eating
Drank too much wine
The same we’d once
Shared, told
My friends I was fine.

Broke my back moving
My world around
To new homes.
New places.
New bedsheets.

Ate my sickness
Digested my muscles
Pushed back horrors.
Falsified intuition
Lied through my teeth.

Became nothing
And no one
Delved deeper than dwarves.
Found bedrock
Of water and stone.

Broke through foundations
Of frozen lakes
Into new worlds.
Became monstrous
And beautiful.

Embraced my darkness.
Stopped caring
Stopped lying
Stopped breathing
Grew new lungs.