I replay the hit and run of our relationship
since that New Year's Eve night
with every first smile since, every first date
every first kiss--
they all remind me of you,
butterflies fluttering among bitterness
in the pit of my stomach.
(I refuse to be left again. Flight wins every time.)
And they all watch, so curiously confused
as I leave them at an intersection,
(like you left me on your friend's doorstep)
the light blinking red, the same color
of the taillights of my escape
as I speed off into the night, and try
to forget you, your embrace, your touch
even as I mimic who we used to be,
over and over, and
(as my heart breaks) over again.