What I wish most is that I could douse gasoline on all my memories of you
and throw a lit match to it.
I wish I never let you enter my world.
I wish I couldn't discern your face from the next person.
I wish you never so insidiously crawled under my skin.
I should have known better.
But how could I have known?
When you spoke of technicolor dreams we could share
and sugary moments pressed together in bed.
It just isn't fair.
But I should be so grateful I could tell the signs early on.
I should be grateful that I stopped it.
You served your purpose
as my transitory phase.
I wasn't alone for the month of August.
But it would be easier now if I had been.