We keep injecting the distance
between June and December.
Wait long enough, I won’t remember
I’m not calling you
I do
dial the phone, dig at the scab.
When you don’t answer,
I can wait another month, –
three, maybe. I can keep at bay
the way your heartbeat played
an s.o.s. against my chest, forget
the CPR I never learned.
Leaving remains the privilege
I prefer unearned. I hook
your pinky finger into mine,
but look away.
You and I sustain ourselves in silence,
more easily remembered than renewed.
wow. i sort of think i know what this is about and it breaks my heart.
maybe what, but I kind of doubt who. although you may be more psychic than I suspect. sorry for any heartbreak. for what it’s worth, I hope this poem speaks more to a moment within a very important relationship, and serves less as a final take on what will never again be… <3