Sunday

relentlessly



i remember a time 
when i was the first thing on your mind 
the days my head didn’t work 
the way it should.


i remember when you’d tell me everything 
in plumes of smoke and shared coffee cups 
whispering to me, you know,
i don’t think i’ve ever felt this close to anyone
and as we inhaled, and as we exhaled,
i couldn’t help but feel 
that was true.

i remember walking down the street with you,
sitting across the dinner table from you, saying,
i feel like you’re the only anchor i have left 
in the world.
(not saying, please 
please don’t leave.)

but there comes a time when someone 
reliable comes along, so the chair is left empty
and the doorbell stops ringing.
i didn’t understand when i called you my anchor, it meant
i was holding you down in the darkness with me.
but i see now -- you’ve let the light in.
the last time we spoke was three weeks ago.


i remember a time when you admired me.
i can only assume after knowing me so long,
you’ve realized 
there’s nothing left to admire.

(i stumble and miss my train
you kiss other people’s cheeks
and i miss you every day, 

relentlessly.)

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