I was daydreaming about him this morning,
and then you arrived.
Like clockwork,
you stepped in
just when I forgot about you.
You were sitting in front of me
at my kitchen table,
watching me drink coffee
and wish for a life
that didn't include you.
Your eyes, waiting for mine
to meet them.
I couldn't lift my gaze off the floor.
I didn't want to see you,
lonely and helpless,
hoping for a reprieve -
another escape into a world
that only exists in our imagination.
Don't you know by now?
I contain the same desires that you do.
Can't you tell that I remember us, too?
I remember the nights of laughter
until 3am,
laying alongside one another,
staring at the ceiling with
bellies full of amusement,
eyes brimmed with tears,
and hearts drunk on love.
I remember your hands around my waist,
your lips on my back,
and the deep surrender into the kind of sweetness
morning love can bring
when there's nowhere to go,
no place to be,
but only to remain hidden under the sheets.
I remember us.
I remember what we felt like
before our story
fell apart.
Before I was no longer
the object of your affection,
but a forgotten relic
sitting on a shelf.
You were the first home I'd ever
found in a man.
You were my home.
Now, as I move forward
without you,
I can't escape your ghost,
waiting and watching,
hoping and pining,
for me to give us another chance.
One thing I'll never forget:
When I was desperately trying
to be home for you,
where did you go
when I needed refuge?
Where were you
when I sought relief?
You see, my love,
I will always remember us.
I will always love you.
But what you remember
is only a fraction of what we had.
The other parts are forgotten
in the memories that I possess
when you forgot me.
