, , ,

You were the most
pleasant of pauses
like a blink, you
never happened
to me

and I’m lonely, I just
want to be underneath
your tongue, your spell
feeling the Fahrenheit’s
heat, like hell and in spite

Of the numbers of letters
I wrote you, I fight myself
the morning after as i rip
them apart and throw
you adrift,

the way you did us when
she learned of your name
It’s not fair to be yearning
wide awake, the same way

it’s not fair for me to forget
your name, to deliver your
things in the rain, deaf to
your complaints—fuck you,
the end has been long overdue