I'm not sure if my heart is still in there somewhere
Or if maybe it's vacationing.

It would be nice to get a postcard.

Tiny crimson droplets mar the fabric upon which I lay
I observe each individual fiber,
stained,
Soiled by a midnight mistake I may never be able to remove
You can only scrub so much
Until you must resort to bleaching things away.

I promise not to press you between my pages,
You're beautiful because you're so alive.

It seems like the memory of you multiplies when I finally think it's gone.
I shared the things I love with you,
The things that are pieces of who I am.
I wish I hadn't let you into so many parts of my life,
Because I haven't stopped trying to get rid of you
And you've been creeping up from tiny cracks and crevices to spite me.
It doesn't matter what I do, what I use, what I say.
You keep blooming out of nowhere.

I've been trying to figure out how to get it back,
But I haven't seen you in months.
Have you found it sitting there?
I wonder if you threw it out along with fast food bags and stray receipts,
Or if maybe you repurposed it and hung it over your rearview instead.

I've forgotten the way your lips taste,
And the greatest hardship of all
Is waiting for a reminder
That isn't coming.

I thought I could swallow my fear,
But I guess you could taste it in my kiss.