i wonder how he never thinks of me
while hearing the music i would play for him
on dark nights in his bedroom
or while passing the space on his desk
where there was a picture of me

i wonder how he never thinks of me
even while slipping
the underwear i bought him
over his thighs
or while putting his face in the steam
of the tea
i gave him when he was sick

i mean,
how can he not think of me
when he sleeps on a pillow
we used to share?

how can he not think of me
when he opens the drawer where he keeps
my love letters,
or sees the box of condoms
in the closet?

does he not remember
every intimate touch we felt?
every beautiful word we exchanged?
every incredible embrace we shared?

when he is sleeping,
rolls over to reach for a warm body,
and finds he is alone

i hope he remembers me

11/13/2005

Posted on 11/14/2005
Copyright © 2024 Emily Davidson