i want to forget,
        forget these bruised bones and how they got that way.
i want to forget,
         forget this emaciated body and walk away from it,
I want to forget,
         forget why my twig fingers dug into this dirt, dug into an empty grave,
but it hasn’t rained in six months, it hasn’t rained since you died.

I want to forget,
         but the flowers on my bedside table are not even flowers anymore,
     and the picture of you doesn’t even look like you, and these stupid poems of love and forever only announce themselves later on as *******.
               Because love is not something you gave me, love is something I only offered up to you as a sacrifice of my own existence. Love is all i had to give and you didn't even want it from me.

I want to forget,
          forget about the ****** knuckles, forget about how afterwards
   you would lay me down in a warm bath and wash off the blood and everything else you etched into this already broken skin.
                But it hasn’t snowed since last november, and last november you didn’t even know my name.

On this stiff soil, with the sun cascading itself through fingers of dead trees, i almost think i hear your name, like you’re echoing it off of your sorry tongue, like you want to unbury yourself, like you want to go back to where you didn’t stop for me, where you didn’t tell me your name.

                      I wish the same, i wish the same but all i can bring myself to do is cry over a body that never even deserved crying for.