The scary thing about
how time heals
is that I forgot
the only person I wanted to remember.
I force myself to be okay with that.
I started to lose

all the details about her, all the fights I knew I'd lose
before the arguments began, because I couldn't stand to think about
her being upset with me. I was quick to let her think that
the tension between us healed
that neither of us could remember
the reason we were fighting in the first place. I forgot

her coffee order when she's sad, I forgot
how she freaked out when she lost
the callback to someone we despised. I forgot how she remembers
that I counted how many chicken nuggets I ordered. She was all about
knowing the little things that kept me at ease, that healed
my stress away from her. But then I knew that,

with the poison I kept on the tip of my tongue, that
would be impossible. She tended to forget
even though she was the one to heal
me emotionally when no one else could, she would lose
me at the same time with disappointment. It was not her fault. About
four years now, I'm still alone in pictures. I remember

that we were always together in a single frame. I remember
I kept my mouth closed and she smiled with her teeth. That
passenger seat remained empty, beneath a full moon about
to transform into new. Once I forget
eclipses only last a few hours, I lose
the nostalgia that never did get me healed.

Replaying my memories will not heal
what I once had. I will not remember
everything I thought I'd never lose.
Once it hits, I am on the floor, pressing into the cold tiles, so close that
I can reimagine her skin, and I will never forget
all of the things I thought about.

I believe she can no longer heal me and that kills me.
I can't remember to forget her.
I constantly wonder about her, and the universe I lost.

one pitcher of sugar, three tea bags
can't sweeten the southern drink
any more than you could sweeten
your flat, stale love

I need to stop looking
at her as though the sun has risen,
and the rays paint the universe in a collection
of pinks and oranges, and sparkles the terrain.
She cannot be the most beautiful thing
I have ever seen. For she is also the night
who constantly leaves me in the dark
when I need only a single slant of light
to scarcely live.

Watching the exchange of two people in love
really validates the small percent of hope
I have left in marriage. It completely overshadows
the bad experiences I've seen between my parents.
You see how she absolutely lights up
when he talks, like the stars have arrived
after a rainy day. For those few moments
of seeing real love, I forgot all my cynical
views and desperately wished I had that exchange.
Hearing him say "This is why I married you"
after she said some intelligent remark about our
parts of speech work sheet, and her smile
spoke all the words unsaid. How so in love she still
is, with this man from their wedding ten years ago, and a kid throughout their ongoing journey. They are a story
so rarely told, and I want to shout to the world that love
remains alive.

Two linked sugars make up a disaccharide. And that's
what we are. Simple, plain
table sugar, dully passed back
and forth to sweeten our taste.
Sometimes I'll accidentally switch
the shakers for breakfast, hand

you the salt, and you hand
me a spice so harsh that
my tongue curls at the unexpected switch.
I do not prefer the boring, plain
predictable exchange of taste
I followed for so many years back.

So I turn my back
to you, hold up my hand
as a shield of what you would say next. "Have you lost your taste,"
you say, anger overshadowing your faded love, "that
I've grown plain
to you?" I knew then to make the switch

into freedom from the same scene replayed. I get up and turn the light switch
off and leave you in the dark. "When you get back
from work," I say to the plain
dining room, "you will find this ring off my hand."
I can barely see your eyes glowing in the only source of morning light. "That's
absurd," you exclaim. "All because of how I want my cereal to taste?"

I shake my head. "It's not the physical taste. It's the taste
of you that makes me want to switch
out of this marriage. You aren't giving me what I want, and that
is my reason to back
out of this. You offered your hand
to hold mine, to support me, but it's all so plain."

I continue, "And isn't it plain
to see that my taste
in relationships lack passion? I give out my hand
to anything that flicks the switch
of love. You give me the nudge to turn it back
off." With that

I exit the house and try to restore my taste the way I had it back
to my actual preferences. I switch from the plain
safety and run with the risk that I never had at hand.

The sun undresses its silky rays
before the blushing earth.

The earth gazes,
her sapphire eyes soak in
the glimmering shot of dawn. The moon
hide away, curving against
the hangnail of light. Stars
scintillate their last dust of evening.

“You always act like you’ve never seen me before.”
The sun removes another layer.
“Like each time is too good to be true. ”

Spinning, the earth grows dizzy. “You are the one who
abandons me in the dark.”

Above the horizon, the sun smiles.
“Clairvoyance is buried inside of you.
You know I will always return.”

The sun’s amber skin
radiates along coasts and cities,
intensifying. Brightness diminishes-
night turns into day into night once more.

“I’m still alive for you, love.”
The earth tucks in the trails of dusk
as the sun cradles revolving planets.

“See you again, soon.”