Les Choses Que Je Veux Rappeler

Tell me you’re escaping

I wish excuses didn’t fill holes
because the truth is
the absence in my bed
fills the void you left
when I crawl home

Too late, I remember
what passed is past

Deep finger paper cuts
remind me of memories
I left in the back alley
of our Parisien hotel room

Thin ravines trace down
my thumb from the
evening struggle with
our perfect bottled Cabernet

I forget your lips but
remember your mouth

I lie to myself
about lying with you

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