Do you remember the last day?
Not the one where our words left burns on flesh
But the one where our tentative apologies became the salve
Where forgiveness became possible
And our future was suddenly not set in stone
We stole pens and wrote our sins on sweat coated skin
Our truths sinking into every wrinkle and every fold we created
But in the morning you were gone
And in the bathroom I found a washcloth stained with ink.