What an odd thing to do

Cry tears to loosen the 

Mud of a relationship

Meant to be fossilized 

Continue to restitch old wounds

That become open with blood

When I see the two of you

Together, a package deal 

Expose more skin to be burned

Their fingerprints like match heads 

Creating constellations of scars  

Across my shoulder blades

Clink glasses of wine celebrating 

A graduation of one more fuckup

Yours and mine—to us.