I don’t remember you
like I used to. Only—
fragments mostly
a familiar scent.

Like waking up one morning
and finding your microwave
gone-only you can’t
remember what it’s called--

something’s missing that was
whole before. I feel
ruined

“Really, Steve—where did I
put my—it must be in here--
somewhere.”

*Little more than strangers *
If I passed you, by chance, would
I r e m e m b e r
to know you?

The worst part is—I don’t even—
why did I think
it was worth it?