MY STUBBLE

My stubble grows longer
in the nights while you're away.
You thought the world would go on
if you moved to another state.

And you were right,
but I don't think you realized
the impact it would have
on the aesthetics of my jaw.

The depth of my vanity
only went as far
as my staircase
to the stars.

But now that you're gone,
I spend my time
on the rugged rubble
of the earth.

Rubbing elbows
with the barks of the trees
and arguing with the blackbirds
in the forests deep.

I have nothing better to do
than to cry and scream
at the world,
and then to turn around
and say I love it.

Why would I spend my time shaving
when in my head
I am still fighting with you
for leaving?