there is nothing to love about my inability to not forget

destroying notes—
the notes i would have left you

painting my tears onto shoe boxes—
i cannot bring to mind the last time i had not seen them

it’s all the things you’d done to me
it’s all the scars you’d left behind

they plague me, body and soul

there is nothing to love about my inability to remember

but by God’s “good grace” i’ve forgotten your voice,

perhaps He thought it was His way of “helping”

but how is it “helping” if i am just ending up with more pain

i cannot put a voice
behind the pain
behind the hurt

i have no voice to blame at night
when i cannot sleep
when i cannot forget