how do i learn to forget the ups and downs of your speech, the soft pressure of your fingers dragging down my skin, the promises at the end of your sentences and the hints of forever seeping out of the cracks in your dusty brick walls? at the end i think there were only a few spaces where you let me see you, let me in. i just wanted to be enough for you.

how
m a n y
times   d o
i have   to tell
myself  it's  okay
to feel like there is an
entire tree growing inside
me  before  i  actually  accept
it

i'm  finding  comfort
in the  fact that, even
for a little while, you
were  just  as  lost  as
i always  seem  to be

i only  ask  that you do
not forget  my  laugh
and the smell of my
shampoo,       m y
ticklish   thighs
and the  s o f t
f e e l i n g of
m y  mouth
on     your
m o u t h

I     a m     l o s t.
I  rowed  my  boat  out
I think I was looking for you
but it was all murky water and
thick swamp air. I swear I could
hear you shouting for me, hear
you playing your banjo, hear
you whispering my favorite
Neruda  poem,  hear  that
conversation     with
R   o   m   a    n
("So he won you over?"
"I played on her heart strings."
"Mmm, yeah, something like that.")
bubbling out of every ripple in the
water. I picked up my flashlight to see
your eyes, see that bump on the bridge
of your nose, see those pieces of hair
that always stick up, see your slow
s            m             i             l           e
(god, my all time favorite smile
ever    on   a   person's    face)
but my beam caught just a
glimmer of your   h a n d
before  it   burned   out
I'm certain it was you
so I threw it in the
green w a t e r in
my final act of
frustration.
I am lost.