didn’t I

I had to tell my therapist
and everyone that I’ve come across
since you left
that I’m hiding all of your artwork

you wanted me to keep it
probably because you know
that I would take good care of it.
there is one fond, maybe two, fond,
memories that I have of our summer romance
one being the warmth I felt
on a hot rock
with you by the river

then driving home in the rain
while you nodded off

three, getting lost on a mountain
while trying to find the best spot
to watch the fireworks

we resulted to a playground
where you took a picture
of us kissing
I don’t remember it

in this picture the
light from the white firework
is illuminating my hair
the halo of frizz looks red
silhouette shows eyes

your face is barely in it
it’s mostly me, on fire
with a grey sky behind me

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to the sea down the road

the best part of me
the good qualities
are hidden in my car’s
glove compartment

amateur self-published
books of poetry that I had
written a few years ago

the passenger sees them
untouched every time
I reach in to grab
my poppy red circle wallet

you read one
while I look out of the window
it’s the best part of me
you don’t understand
why I hide it

groundhog day

light that shows
through the trees
projects delicate
shapes on the boardwalk
on this lined paper
my dress
these are the only patterns
that matter
words don’t mean a
thing
is it this sweat
showering
from my face
stinging my eyes \

someone is starting
a motorcycle
the lawnmower man

mowing his
lawn is not new
and the bird
conversation happening
overhead is
centuries old
ancient