Belly of the whale

I only wish you could see how perfect I look naked these days,
Glistening in the candle light, tanned by the blush of sex.
Here we still stand,
300 feet apart,
remembering exactly
what it means to hold one another again.
I can feel your nervous pull,
while it drenches a fire within
with kerosine and 11 bottles of rum.
I know you remember what it's like to taste this tender flesh.
It leaks champagne sweat, and you imagine yourself,
drunk off my disposable liquids.
I see how you covet my breasts
and insist on misunderstanding
my laughs of good nature,
as laughs of romance and fearful longing.
You create bitter bites along my spine,
and connect the dots,
until you read what you've been longing to read for years.
"I've moved on."
And in this bitter flash of reality,
spelled across my shoulder bones,
you shudder to think that I can exist without you.
No, I am no longer stuck within the belly of your whale.
I don't mourn our ghosts, dancing across the numbers
painted in pink laying humbly in front of my home.
No,
you have slept so many summers away from me,
I hardly remember just what it was I loved about you.
Because as we stand here,
300 feet apart,
you can't even make me smile.
You so desperately try,
to look into my eyes, and avoid the arrogance I leak.
I know I am the upper hand,
and this is something you'll never grace upon my cheek,
ever again.
300 feet away,
I stand by a man, I once watched
trace spiderwebs through my heart and soul,
binding them so tight, I swear I could never be released,
from the pitiful, and foul skeleton locks,
only, and once,
carelessly unlocked by the hand of your gloved arm.
You reached into me,
and planted the seed of insecurity,
and the waves of self loathing came in long steady tsunamis,
until I located that part within,
and tricked her into taking her old and miserable life with her.
To the floor of the ocean, to treetops, and mountain peaks.
I watched her drown, fall, and disappear into banks of pure snow.
and now you have no schizophrenic minions of mine,
You're left wondering, who is left to mourn the old you,
and now that, she, the insecurity, fades away into a swift, suicidal explosion.
how will you ever return to unlock the best parts of me?