I peeled back the skin on the clementine,
your silhouette stood in front of the counter as you urged me to aim slices at your mouth,
The echo of my laugh stained the walls.
This time, when I peeled its poignant skin back,
your silhouette was not there.

I found the molded tickets
to the music festival we only brought three dollars to,
It was enough to buy us a greased bag of bacon slices.
Thank God water is free.

I mistakenly wore your Superman boxers to bed for three weeks
until I realized they were yours.
I went to bed every time in them feeling
oh so super,
oh so nostalgic,
oh so happy.
I threw them away the moment I remembered that they touched your skin.
I  decontaminated my room.

I peeled back the emotional blanket today,
My emotions were naked; exposed
as I found the condoms we planned to use for Valentine's Day.
The long distance between us morphed us into planners instead of go-getters.

The go-getters were the ones that fell in love.
The planners were the ones that lost each other among the open fields separating us.