woodandhoney

You’re not of me
You’re not the one with me
But still your words-
I want to see you, please believe that
-they fill everything,
All the small spaces, the crook of my elbow, behind my knees, each finger pad
I must be a fool.
We won’t share the same space, again
No wine filled night, not even tea
But still, perhaps you’d like to see me as much as you say
Perhaps you think of me as much as you suggest
I said I would forget that brief time–
Kisses like blood oranges,
Bruised and sleepless–
But they cling like ants over flowers
You told me you should never worry about caring too much
I carry those words like a secret.
And it’s a story we can’t tell,
You’re everything I try not to be, as exposed as a tooth ache,
Impossible and unreliable.
But, perhaps if we remember occasionally,
It’ll be more than enough
Because I keep your poems that I won’t read safely tucked away in space
Just like everything we never were