by Jeph Johnson
The metamorphosis occurs
internally
where the psyche resides
yet plays
out
in the real world
Former acquaintences
march
in
droves
over the cliff
of doubt
summoned only
via recollection
while new relations
hardly shake
your trembling hand
Friends and lovers
are best considered
melancholy memories
that dwindle
over time
I'd prefer
this phenomenon
of the diminishing essence
happen
posthumously
instead
I must suffer
while my own vitality
practices honing
its esprit
on the precipice of
madness
It was difficult
letting go
the "I love yous"
my lovers have
bestowed
but now
I must forget
completely
their amorous declarations
or risk
insanity