You write my name on grocery receipts
and lose them the next day;
I whisper your name in my sleep,
and forget my dreams by sunrise.
We sit sunburnt on the lawn,
me watching the clouds melt,
pretending not to feel
your eyes on me.
I want to write you a song,
but the words don't make it
from my heart to my fingers.
The sticky notes you leave
on the fridge don't stick, they
slide underneath,
forgotten dust-collectors.
One day you'll remember them,
you'll read them to me and I'll cry,
because you wrote about me,
and I never wrote about you.