there's this thing that i do once a week
where i spew words onto blank sheets of tree carcasses
and those words always revolve around you.
(of course, they're always about you)
for some god unknown reason, i think that doing this
will expel you from my memory.
i just think to myself,
"maybe if i keep writing about him, it'll be like he never existed."
and i know that is not true.
maybe i write about you
because i like to pretend you're still here,
even though you were never truly here.