Goodnight Memories

I’m trying not to remember answering phones calls 

when I was sixteen,

you telling me how my 

beauty 

was a treacherous thing

because you didn’t know 

how to not see me as 

anything other than a virginal

disaster. 
 

I’m trying to remember

laying in bed,

skin on skin,

my fingers tracing every

inch of you like I 

couldn’t believe a 

masterpiece

like you could ever see

a future with a doodle like me.
 

I’m trying not to remember

finding you in your own

vomit, picking your keys

from piss-soaked jeans,

calling you parents,

begging them to come save 

you

since I couldn’t manage to.
 

I’m trying to remember 

laughing as we drove those back

roads I know so well as the

only miles that didn’t have the

might 

to break my heart with false 

promises and empty visions

of the future. 
 

I wish I could only remember

the good times.

The fleeting moments that we

both took for granted 

because we didn’t know

how limited they were.
 

How disappointing it is

knowing 

we’ve expired.
 

Even more displeasing

how I can’t remember how

we ever let it come to

this. 

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