when love ends where do we
go, when your footprints are no longer 
flowers–but tar–and i leave poems
unwritten–do not tell me about silver
linings, i am made of rain–
and i stop, i stop writing
hey how has it been
my love where do we go, when
the path ahead is blocked - three buses
face to face, 20 taka in my pocket and
this keyless map
do you think love ever ends?
i box up my emotions in containers
too small, spilling from my bag
like bombs and i keep myself
from looking back
i haven't thought of you in days
i choose each turn with a 
careless flair, passing mirages
each one sweeter than the last
yet still missing the shade i search
how do you grow a tree–when
the only thing beneath is sand
slippery and slowing
it burns my feet
i stopped writing long ago, the words
like the sand, my thoughts–slipping 
through my fingers, disregarding
any effort to grab onto something 
one grain could save me
or break me
out of this loveless stupor
undo–
undo?
how shall i undo this? i never prepared
for lightning to hit, my tree wasn't
tall–i kept it pruned
yet it burned
i carry the coal with me, dropping
pieces, like memory
the hourglass trickles on
i stopped writing long ago
my surroundings bounded by the vast blank
not even a rest stop, i have to
move
for reasons no longer clear to me
my feet still carry on
i haven't thought of you in days

and maybe i have walked far enough

ree hates love stories bc things only work out in fiction, and never for them. their therapist thinks it's bc of anxiety but ree is just plain jealous.