19 April

Dear painful friend,

I suppose it’s an option to read you

without reeling

watch your face flicker pixels

without wanting to scream

down your unbending throat

not give into these stale old feelings

they crumbled like the dirt I forgot to bottle

in September at the end of the trail

I'm beginning to wonder if they will ever die

want, you say it with that accent

softening the sound to something sweet

taffy, candy, easy sugar, not good, junk food

you’re thinking of moving

my mouth turns up at the corner

wry, mocking—I know why

what other reason would you have there

I’ve worked myself into mental corners

convinced myself you’re not together

as if it matters; I’m taken too

but that look in her eyes in the pink light

in your story that time in November

I looked at you like that

once and—I hope not—forever

I want to rewrite you

and remake you in my mind

three hundred and sixty five days ago

all this was set in motion

If I could go back and shake her

the stupid woman entranced by your vowels, your smile

if I could slap her into self-preserving movement

before it fell apart

I probably wouldn’t dare

teach me, strange teacher

the paintbrush and lupine knew it all along

because we clearly crossed for a reason

if you give me words I couldn’t put together before

if tentative flowers sprout from these fraying sidewalks

if all this finally quiets and leaves behind peace

then it will have been worth it to know you.

Sincerely, and with far too much,

me