If I learn to write again,
I would put into detail how
your eyes turn to steel blue
whenever you ask me about
the future name of our kids
running with their bikes on
Wisteria Lane

I would put into detail how
your morning coffee has the
smell of the sandalwood table
my father gifted my mother on
their 36th anniversary

I would also put into detail how
on nights I cry while struggling to
put three words and a sentence
on crumpled paper, you’d be
there.

There to run your palm over my
soaked shirt and whisper that I will forever be
your favorite writer.

(despite the fact I haven’t written our
grocery lists in months... scratch that, years)

I would learn to write again
to see how your face scrunch up
at every word I misplace or
commas I forget.

If I ever learn to write again,
I would write again for you.