What I won't remember

(written in 2013)




There was vomit on my dress
and the belt had been loosened
so I chalked it up
to one of those nights

We would joke about it in class
I couldn't remember a thing

You would joke about it during lunch
she couldn't remember a thing

I still don't really know


I can barely remember your voice
we almost weren't talking anymore
There was a rumor passed on
by your sister
The start of many
But it was before I lost my mind


There are journals that I'm still scared to read
There are keys that I'm still looking for
I dropped them in water full of ink

I can sift and splash
and splash and splash and sift
but it'll never clear
They won't be found


I never knew evil
wore cotton polos
and drove it's grandmother's car

What I'll remember

(written in 2009)


It was dark outside
when I fell in love with your arms and found
on them
your ET fingers
Long enough that my ribs were your piano

Your speedometer glowed with
my feet pressed against your dashboard
Me
and you
and your car
all humming the same song

while my knees knocked together drumbeats
and my hands were sticky
with vanilla softserve
leaving a trace on every part of you that I might want to remember-

your beard that you could never grow
to the thick cotton of your polo
down
to the light of your hands
changing the song, whispering words
in the glow of the white interior

long before I stained it red
with roofied drinks and pizza sauce

Back
in days when I would
drive my own car faster
towards any silver towncar
to look for the dent in the side

Maybe it was you
mouthing the words to your favorite songs
wishing I were there so you could sing them into my cheek,
the glow of the speedometer lighting up the
white interior of your car

guiding us home
like Sunday school saints


Take me home
Drop me off
So I can get into my own car,
drive away,
and remember why you thought you were in love

"So, about the other night...."

Lets talk about it. I'll love you either way.

But really,.

Life is pretty fucking awesome.!

A

I archived the email so that every time I open my inbox I don't have to remember that I'm not always a good person. Sometimes I'm a bad person even.
or maybe I just don't know how to handle this shit so it's back to old ways.

I just know that there's seven billion 46 million people on the planet and you have the audacity to think that I matter. I'm sorry.