Photo by Jairo Alzate on Unsplash

Crack!
The sound of the whip I use
to flagellate myself reminds me of your name,
A short, sharp syllable full of spiked consonants.
Crack!
Each status I see you tagged in is another lash,
for which I can never truly brace myself.
Crack!
Up pops a photograph I expected to see eventually,
I thought I was prepared.
Crack!
I tell myself I don’t care,
It’s partly true-I don’t,
Not in the moment, not consciously.
Crack!
Lies.
It’s always there, ticking away,
A generator…