fuck you

[greendaymonday]

This is me and this is Joe, and this was us.

I don't want to remember
isolation, or
the alienation I feel sulking
around you

or the broken-down hollows
my words reduce themselves
to like butter bubbles over heat.

I want to remember the straight-
flush in your cheeks
the shape of your wilting irises
as they melt into slate.

I'll trade in thoughts of neglect for
Aladdin duets and the curve
of your upper lip as it leans in
for a drag.

That transformation your face embraces from
a contented, sleepy photographic icon
to an oak nodding sluggishly in
agreement with the wind
to a raucous whirligig orbiting full speed
as you laugh.

I want to recall the second day
stubble your razor forgets,
illuminated by a midnight twitch
in your neck.

As I lay alone, intent on remembrance,
my memory cannot deny the
sallty-sweet of your scent
corrupting mine,
the forging of our ivory tower

or the superglue callous that
coats your maimed left thumb.