153.

I am reminded of you in the pit in my stomach
in my cigarette cravings and in pretending to be half-asleep
in the sound of second glances and missed opportunities
in cramping legs and in held breath

I am reminded of you in the shake in my fingers
in coffee grinds and backwards caps
in the gray and green of rain and the black of 5 AM
in waiting to be kissed and in avoidance

all I have left are reminders under my fingernails
kicking back dust into smoke from the evenings when I told you
"I swear I'll quit buying packs, just after this last one"
because I was so nervous to show you my wrists, my throat
knowing you had never brought me knives before, but
I thought there was a first time for everything

so I trembled and smoked and apologized
and you just smiled and stayed silent
swaying with your hands in your pockets

I spent every moment split in two, half ankle-deep in cement
and half putty-melting toward you
cursing my crossed legs and knowing
that nothing was left between us but yellow light illuminating
the nicotine we exhaled, and we sat in that standstill for months

now I am reminded of you in the creak in my bones
in opening clenched fists only to find them empty
in the crescendo, and in cutting the music off
before the song is over

152.

gather up every sharp and hollow memory you keep of us
(like every kiss I should have cursed you with)
and I will take them from you, and fill your hands
with violets and my yellow fingers instead

there are so many ways to say I'm Sorry

and I am pressing my lips to every photograph we never took
the way your breath smelled in the dead of night,
when you sang a crown over my head and held my shoulders
and all they ever did for you was turn cold

maybe this is what I deserve, silence like a punch in the gut
blinded by the absence of you and all I want
is the hum of your skin on my mouth
and the place on your neck that I kept secret, and I swear
I still trip over the way you smiled at me under the table
when your mother forgot my dinner order

you laced under me like crossbeams
and you lifted me up by the knees

now I am dripping like creek water and I am asking you
to please come back

because there is so much of you that I squandered
and I should have brushed my fingers all down your arms every day,
should have kissed your palms and your eyelashes,
should have wrapped myself around your waist every morning
and not let you walk out the door

there are so many ways to say I'm Sorry
and I choked on them all
and stayed quiet