i want to remember you again,
the things you whispered to me
at the movies or your dogs’ names
or the stupid way you styled your hair
and feel something other than
tar pits bubbling in my stomach.
i was looking through the jpegs
on my phone and i forgot
you would be suspended there,
still finding something in me
worth smiling for.
i almost deleted them all.
i want to talk to you, but
past 11 is too late and i have to work
or i’ve had a couple drinks i shouldn’t,
or i get hung up on whether to use
hey or hi or type up some tome
about something cliche about new
beginnings or sunrises or aching.
i don’t send you a text.
i’ve always been a rabbit sprinting
from a loud noise, falling over
itself to survive. i don’t know how
to reminisce, only to stifle, to run,
to leave dark colors behind.