i forget to take my contacts out at night but i bet the shape of your collarbones is probably still the same
crooked half moons covered in cream

just like the type of gum you chew

spearmint

and the cigarettes you don’t smoke

marlboro reds

and i bet you still swear too much

****

i forgot that forgetting is hard and that tears on cotton t-shirts will always remind me of the first time i was going to have to start forgetting about you

yet i still forget to put my clothes in the dryer

it’s hard to forget the taste of kraft macaroni and cheese on your lips at my parents house
 
or sinking into buttery leather in a dark room
planting kisses on the smooth insides of your elbow

i forgot that forgetting is hard but i think that if the trees can shed their leaves then it must be possible for you to shed me

how come forgetting you has become so hard when i can so easily forget my dad’s birthday or my brothers favorite band

i forgot that forgetting is hard when you brushed back my hair with the same hand that wrote me a sweet symphony of words worth remembering

and ******* if i never realized that forgetting would be so hard when
i was looking at the pink duct tape around the side mirror of your car while you were deciding whether or not to first kiss me.