Wednesday, October 22, 2014

nothing to say (so much)

“why don’t you ever write about me?”

you wondered aloud,
one night, in july
eyes trained above my head
whisky-heavy breath
not quite reaching my face

i tried to, 
you see,
but my hand ached,
pencil gripped tightly
as i searched for something to write

that i knew
would stay-

(you wouldn’t erase)