apology.

It still fascinates me how people leave, how we expect it,
how quickly we clean the houses empty and hide ghosts
under our fingernails. How names become names
but without the burning. How the poems don’t hurt anymore.
What I am saying is the songs that remind me of you
probably remind you of someone else. What I am saying is
we have prepared for this our whole lives. What I am saying
is we are too good at stuffing suitcases with memories and
drowning the people that we used to be. What I am saying is
I’m sorry. What I am saying is that in the dark,
ephemeral looks a lot like eternal. What I am saying is
your legs must hurt from walking in and out of people’s
houses / of people’s lives / of people’s hearts. Your feet
must be sore. What I am saying is I am sorry. What I am saying
is I am still home if you want me to be. I’m sorry

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