To his ex

I don’t

hate you.

I don’t think I ever could.

But, you are a bitterness;

a background taste in his kisses,

a small discord in his words,

and something that fills the back of his eyes.

As his fingers twirl my hair

I wonder…

I wonder how much of you he sees in me.

Do I echo your memories,

as he shakes his head,

not knowing whose face he touched?

I don’t hate you,

but we have scarred each other,

as only lovers can.

Robert Frost is Schrodinger

I’m walking two different paths,

followed by two different tangents,

into two different valleys,

with two different coils,

and either way I’ll miss you,

and I’ve never even left you.

No wonder you’re lost.

In one breath

Listening to water hit wine,

and I need to touch your face.

Are your dreams mine?

Are we trying to force a place?

I know nothing to show you,

but what walls are made of.

I don’t know how to know you,

I’m lost on how to love.

And this is rhyming,

and I’m praying,

and dreading…

all in the same sentence.

Remembering

If you forget me,

I hope it’s in a good way.

I hope it’s the kind of forgetfulness where,

when wisps of me cross your mind

you’ll sigh,

feel contented,

and not know why.

But deep inside of you

that tiny smoke of me has settled,

and wrapped you in affection.

You are loved.

And even when my name is gone from your lips,

I hope those traces of me, left in you,

take root,

give you comfort,

strength.

You were never weak.

I will sing you to contentment,

and when at last you know it,

leave me,

and walk on water.