On some nights I miss you so much I want
to perform a lobotomy on myself. Remove
the image of your shoulders against his
from where it is lodged inside of me, burn
all your pretty words from my frontal lobe
so that the next time I see you, everything
will look like static. It is all heartbreak,
dragging my quiet body home and trying
to remember the last time I felt this alone.
So maybe it is hopeless, the way I toss love
like confetti and watch it stick to the backs
of strangers. Everything ends before anything
begins and I am still holding the weight of it all
in the crease of my elbow. I am tired
of accepting all of the responsibility.
I am tired of making all of the effort.
I am tired of the other boys and the other girls
and writing poems about spinelessness and slow dancing alone.
I want to remove every part of my body that you have touched
but mostly my memory.
One day I will be so in love with myself that nothing else will be important and I will still wonder if it is cold where you are.