(Poem) My Pet Rabbit Died

I cried tears, wet and disgusting.
I bawled my eyes out empty
from their sockets. And then
it stopped. It all stopped. As if time
stopped. Still sniffling, I stopped
crying. It was over. He
died. And it was over. I
wrung all the sadness out, mangled
the dampness in my heart as if nothing
happened. I buried him outside
next to a fruit tree on the side
and sat on my couch to eat. Was I
done grieving? Or was this just me
grieving? Do I grieve by eating?
The sad thoughts were still there, hovering
like an afternoon dream. Regret
kept building up a dam. But all I did was forget
as if the new was all worn out. As if
I lost interest. Like I was actually
relieved. Like I never actually
loved him.
He didn’t deserve that. I didn’t
deserve him. And this guilt
kept gnawing at my thoughts, trying
to make me realize. But
that was it.
That was all I felt.
As if deep down, I really
didn’t care
about my thoughts,
my guilt,
about
him.
And that
hurt more than the actual death.