SHE THINKS SHE REMEMBERS,
the grace of a thousand highway signs
that blur against her vision as she lets go of
the world around herself
and throws it out
an open car window
feeling it fall with a
satisfying crunch!
among the hollow highway.
SHE THINKS SHE REMEMBERS,
his cherry lips against her own
oh, this soft texture
it turns late night kisses into
midnight addictions.
when his smooth hands,
oh when they,
caress her jawline
just before their faces meet,
she feels the world fall just a little short.
because their gardens tangle up and their heads split open
and he smiles as he wraps his hands up in her sweater
that smile that
turns her heart into
dripping ice cream,
or perhaps,
the way he clutches his brain
with his wired hands and
electric touch.
SHE THINKS SHE REMEMBERS,
all those promises.
he leaves,
stains on her cheeks
with pretty bows and
just the right amount of
ribbons.
and with every stain,
a flower sprouts from the splinters in her skin
and when she walks down streets alone and
scrapes up the blue light that she glues to her cheeks,
her flowers glisten.
he reminds her of the rain that splatters against her windows
and the skies just before they turn gray
and she'd like to paint him,
but she'll never find the time.
SHE THINKS SHE REMEMBERS,
the color of his tinted skin,
the lampposts and their golden light,
it flickers off like stars in his mind.
when the summer air kisses their faces
and when
love blesses every angle of her contours.
It's times like these that she likes to remember.
and she's holding his hand tightly as she drapes one wrist over
the stick shift,
and she's holding him and he's holding her,
but she doesn't feel him at all.
NOW SHE DRIVES ALONE,
and the lights that seemed to cry into her skin
and hold her close when she
drove with him,
embed her skin with
religious hatred
and she
hates this feeling.
NOW SHE'S PLAYING AROUND WITH THE BROKEN BUTTONS ON HER RADIO,
and she learns the silent waves by heart
her savior,
the disappearance of one person
in the car.
all those midnight drives that seemed to
keep her sane as she likes it
oh, god, where did he go? she needs you.
because his smile
reminded her of all the damn
cassette tapes he bought
from cheap stores
down the roads
and all the times she nearly
swerved off the road because his laugh
penetrated through her skull
and vomited sunlight into her garden.
now she's twirling a last lonely lily in her hand and she's
trying to pull out her breaths with a hook
because he always smelled like vodka on the way home
but she liked him anyway.
and he was always distant when he looked into her eyes,
but she never noticed.
NOW SHE'S PLAYING AROUND WITH THE BROKEN BUTTONS ON HER RADIO,
and she's careful in picking
a song with
just the right dosage of
emptiness
but
she can't seem to
find the perfect one.
and although he doesn't exist,
maybe never even did,
she still likes to buy a vodka every night,
from that filthy 24/7 liquor store
on the way home
when the stars wink and sit themselves on
golden thrones.
she lays that glass bottle down in the backseat,
because he always smelled like vodka on the way home,
and she liked him anyway.
·
July 29 - August 5, 2016
