“I don’t remember what my name
sounds like coming out of your mouth,
or only just barely, as if it is coming in
at a whisper now. When things were good,
you’d say it always, repeating it over & over
like you were chewing on it, like you were
trying to taste it right. I still say yours a lot
& it often sounds like shrapnel, like a car
crash, but sometimes it sounds exactly like
the sigh when you realize everything’s alright.
Everything’s alright. I fucked someone else.
Everything’s alright. I said I wouldn’t, but
he was next to me & it felt good & I am not sorry,
just like you aren’t sorry about any of the other hers
you hoard like get out of jail free cards in Monopoly.
You see, we both lie a lot about our own growth,
what we mean when we say we’re getting better
is that we’ve just found somewhere new to hide
& that we never really liked how loving each other
was an exercise in the door being pried open,
how it was a lesson in being found.”
“You’re with some girl— not me.
I am starting this out on the
wrong foot, I am sounding
a lot like jealousy. I sound like
a broken car window, like keys
against paint, like alarm systems
going off & scattering in the wind,
but I am not that woman. We both
know that I am not that woman.
I won’t ruin your life, but I will
ask the ugly questions & make
demands & I will starve rather than
eat what I don’t want to, so I’m worried.
I’m scared of knowing where our love
went because I’d go looking for it
& I’ve already turned the house over
to see if it was somewhere in the
foundation of what we had shared,
but there was only dirt, spiders, rats;
the earth telling me that there’s nothing left
of the dream I once made up for us.”