we were both kicking and screaming
me out of love, you out of rage
I reach my hand out and search for something
realizing I have no proof that you exist at all
the sun is setting behind your head and I wonder
what it’d take to start brand new, which is a line from
another poem I’ve written at another time, or was it this one?
the street is dark, this isn’t more than letters on a page
each of my memories sits in the back of my head
categorized alphabetically like a spiral of index cards
I work on writing in cursive
I work on singing on key
I work on saying it differently, meaning it more, thinking first
I remember everything, but my hand only moves when I tell it to
I tire of my words and set out on experiencing something new
I cut my hair, order different flavors, try out a few different people
I take a deep breath ******* in as hard as these hips can
I consider removing myself from this situation entirely
but it’s a fleeting thought because I’d be so bored
I feel the past tugging at my knees and
it makes it hard to stand for long
all I want is for this world to infect my body