for S.C.

There is an ache in me that lies
low and cuts deep, trapped, like that pea
beneath a million worn mattresses. Silent,
it creeps, long familiar finger tracing my spine
on days like today when I am reminded
of a man who was once mine. In the midst
of cleaning out my closet, suddenly there
you are, glossy image against a flat page,
the intensity of your eyes, smile all the rage.
It’s moments like these that make me question
every idea I’ve ever had about love—why
it is so short yet the forgetting twice as long,
why my stomach still feels like it has wings
even now. Reminders live in the spaces
between all that we have and have not
yet seen and I still think there is a story
waiting to be made into a dream
with us, because if not then I really can’t
trust the mechanics of what makes me feel.
What is it that consumes me
if what I’m chasing isn’t real?

Forget all that "if you love him set him free."
I did that once, and he has yet to come back to me.

02/02/2006

Posted on 02/02/2006
Copyright © 2025 Malika Bierstein