we
hung up our mutual fascinations
at the door, on coat rack hooks,
tarnished like the afternoon was
slowly pouring into.

speaking in short sips from *****
mugs, i realized i couldn't even
figure out how to like you, when i
thought i had loved you so dearly.

the story goes:
i bought your love, commercial
and diffuse. i bought your love top
shelf in ****** bars. i bought your
love at k-mart. the fluorescent
promise on the display case
cupped small hands around my
face, covering my faltered eyes,
and fed me to you on ornate
teaspoons like quartered
mandarins.

no.
i can't do this. i can't do this to you,
to me, to this grand ******* world;
this ugly spectacle of ceaseless
movement around us. i can't let
you be a mistake. i've collected too
many. you'll be lost. you are lost.
you're lost. you're lost.

now, i only remember you when
i'm trying not to.

my heart is a river, and you were a
chemical spill,
were every fish,
every streambed,
you were every fleck of shale,
every mote of dust,
the cumulative gravity of
all galaxies in one instant.

and what, now?
you're just gone,
and
i'm just breathing.