six months is ancient historyI think you need to forget menow

at the end of a long, cold DecemberI gather memories for firewood;your memory won’t burnI hold you too closethese woundsare stillraw

there should be a lawagainst this bliss, your kiss(lest I too easilyget used to it)October, always make me smile like this

maybe next yearI’ll miss you less, yes?no.

getting over you is scheduled for once in every two months – pace yourself in tripping me over: I’ve gotten over you in January just past; mess me up again on the Ides of March.

warm-honeyed-cinnamonall-spice teasehow I love your voice in the mornings, climbinginside my ear, into my veinsfilling up my heart

baby, you drive me crazybut I deleted your custom ringtoneso don’t call me maybe

you gave meachingly beautiful bo leavesheart-shaped offerings of everything that was you holding everything you wanted us to bethose dreams, they tore apart in my careless hands

last birthday, this birthdayevery birthday to come will be marked withthe absence offlowers from you

after ChristmasI will forget youthrow memories out with the treepack up pictures,poinsettias,painthen crush themcarefully withmy feetplace these thoughts in tissue-wrappedtrinketseverything must golest I keep themand weepafter ChristmasI will forget you

you never left me without kissing me, no, not oncenot even when we belonged (somewhat) to them, nonot even then

and sometimesI block you becauseI can’t bear to see you –I can’t bear to see you smile

there was a time when I used to smile on the streets just thinking about you

so be with me – in the new year and the old yearand every yearthat ever will beand I will love you – with my bloodand my bonesand every ounce of my being

my skin still remembersthe trace of your fingersthe letters you wroteas I slowlyfell asleepthe skin textalong ribcageon arm lengthand bare backthose wordsspeak to meever so softlywhen it rains

I shouldn’t have worn the same pair of shoes on the day I met you – they only made me leave you too

I wishyou wouldget over yourself;you’re nowhere nearas fabulous as I first felt

there was also a time whenyou used to tease mefor smiling on the streetsthinking about you

those street smiles?they were turned inside out and stripped bare when you left again, that second time

I lost you – I don’t knowhow it happenedor when it happenedwalking along life’s roadsomewhere, you slipped pastme, disappeared in the distanceI find myself left with only memories:your face, the feel of your hands, your scent that even now lingers around meelusive, the memories, like water slidingagainst water; elusive, these memories, likepictures floating by in a storm, half submergedand ...