i can't even write the title of this poem down
but you probably know what it's called
i open my email to find pictures
of caribbean islands
little green gems in a turquoise sea
one is a photo of you squinting
a weight lifted from your face
we have the same dimples
in conversations i am measured
giving thoughtful explanations
but i dream of screaming at you
and wake up with my fist balled
against my own jaw
the other day i was parking my car
like you taught me and took my keys
out of the ignition to sit watching
the streetlights turn the fog a sickly orange
and here we are this mundane
heartbreak this particular ache
a thing i didn't want
you to teach me
whatever i'm doing it's not forgiveness
it's scraping the inside of a jar
with a spoon
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