Do not so readily forget
what you said to me
because I
clung to each syllable
as I would to the edge of a cliff.
Desperately.
By the tips of my fingers.
Breathless.
Hard.
Absolutely petrified.
And like the dirt perpetually stuck
under my nails you cannot
expect me to ignore
that you still said it.
The energy of
your vocal chords was
released into the atmosphere
and there
it lingers.
You can try to bury
the three am
conversations
under the entrails
of your regret
but the words
"I love you more than her"
cannot so easily be masked.
I suggest you put away
the absinthe
and shame
for neither carries a satisfying
burn.