Sunday Morning

 

There are still three places
that make your face pop into my
mind unexpectedly like those gunshots
on my street when I was falling asleep that night-
and there are thirty scars on my skin-
twenty-five of them bear your name-
he other five are called “what made
you think you could ride on two wheels
when you can barely walk on two feet?”-
and that breakup song still stings when
it catches me alone and too tired to
pretend three years puts enough space
between the heartbreak and the
concept of closure-
I can seek to cover the feeling of your
hands on my skin with other men who
couldn’t tell you how I take my coffee
or why romantic movies make me cry-
but you’re always there-
in the wanting
the friction
the pleasure
and the regret-
and you’re always there in the
absence of “I love yous” and
the feeling of security
that I buried in you.

“Sunday Morning (Coffee Confessions)”- 5-4-14- jessicagadziala

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