The songs you watched me cry to,
Remembering him,
Have rearranged memories
And are now about you.

What I crave to do again
Has shifted forward,
Framing new dates
Like a rotating exhibit
That is always a year behind.

Borrowing the soundtracks
From the reels of older grief,
Unarchiving the loss of other lovers,
Taking the signifiers of pain
And giving them to you.

And when I stumble over the artifacts
That have found their way under my feet,
Coming directly from you,
I pick them up and hold them close,
Tracing every angle and seam
Hoping to feel some trace of you.

I listen close,
Pressing my ear to the glass,
Closing my eyes to focus on the silence
In case one might ring,
Just a little,
With the sound of you.

Now I see why I've been drinking so much.
Because through the glasses full of laughter
And the warm days stained hues of whiskey,
The taste has turned into you.

So now I drink,
Desperate for mouthfuls of you.
It burns me the whole way down,
But to swallow your fire
Is how I stay close to you.

I pretend that maybe,
On the other side of town,
You drink me too.
Taking your gin warm
To remind you of my blood
You couldn't help but spill.

I know you don't,
Because I am a chore to remember,
But I hope sometimes
When you drink,
You ******* fire too.