Sometimes I see your mouth on someone else' face. Then I begin to worry that I'll eventually forget every detail of your mouth. But my memory never seems to fail, and I see you everywhere anyway.
I crossed the street the other day and saw you again. You looked down, and I looked up, and then I looked down again to see if my shoes were just like yours. I didn't know they'd been so scuffed up and roughed up, contoured with every arching bend of my feet. You never hid your mouth, you just wouldn't look my way.
I saw you in a photograph. You were showing your teeth and I grinned at them with mine. I don't remember ever doing that again. I could've sworn I told myself not to smile at you anymore.
And then you're in my room again. You're inside me again. And I can't sleep again. And then your mouth remembers every moment of when you only whispered. And I knew that was me again. And I'm wanting to die again. But I'd probably die happier now again than when I forget you again. And again, and again.
I crossed the street the other day and saw you again. You looked down, and I looked up, and then I looked down again to see if my shoes were just like yours. I didn't know they'd been so scuffed up and roughed up, contoured with every arching bend of my feet. You never hid your mouth, you just wouldn't look my way.
I saw you in a photograph. You were showing your teeth and I grinned at them with mine. I don't remember ever doing that again. I could've sworn I told myself not to smile at you anymore.
And then you're in my room again. You're inside me again. And I can't sleep again. And then your mouth remembers every moment of when you only whispered. And I knew that was me again. And I'm wanting to die again. But I'd probably die happier now again than when I forget you again. And again, and again.
