V,

I remember checking the schedule
to find when our shifts crossed,
and how you stayed late talking to me.

How it cost me
to approach you,
the circuitous routes
concealed even from myself.

I see your ex around;
he tries to be friendly
but
he hates me.

I remember May Day
as your profile against various backdrops.

I remember feeling safe with you,
wanting thunderstorms to bless us,
how we starved because
we didn’t want to get up.

We’d found something familiar in each other.

You sent me pictures
of your sunburn, all red,
mad at yourself.

I picked little curls of skin
from your nose.

When you needed help
I helped
but complained
and I’m sorry.

Now your head’s all new
and I won’t look
behind those eyes again.

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