Unwritten

I run miles on sand
but never get far enough
away from you
I'm writing fervent, feverish letters in my head
all the things I never said
(you're selfish/a coward/you never let me love you/while you knew you had me whole/ you were so difficult/ I bent over backwards and went to the end of the world for you - literally)

and I never will, I suppose
instead, the anger is never birthed
never cleansed from my skin
and I carry it all - you, your sweet smile, your eyes when they light up as I walk in from the dark-
within

You tell me to make the best of it
and move on
But I don't understand how I can
when you left me open
unread till the end
like the bitter/pleading sentences
swimming in my head

I run to shake the image
of another woman in your arms
and you laughing carelessly
but I never get far enough
From you

The last time you looked at me
you studied my face like a photograph
and I realise now
that even then I was a memory in the making to you
a fond moment
a vague warmth

I am left here
struggling between feverish words and soft sand
cold sweat and hot tears
wondering how to end this
when you are the page I never turned
I cannot finish this

It's annoying
like a sentence that never -