This is how the undoing begins –
us within the arms of a sun-drenched bus stop,
my lips pressed against your knuckles,
your eyelids glistening with golden light
When I told that boy I loved him,
what I meant was –
I’m not afraid of dying anymore.
I think I stopped being afraid the first time I realized
that pouring those sleeping pills down my throat
would only take a minute – three, at most
or maybe I stopped being afraid
once I called out to God for the final time,
the memory of that uncomfortable silence
ringing in my ears until dawn arrived.
If I must say something, let it be this –
I found you the way a vagrant finds home,
away from motel rooms and knees
stinging with blood.
This is not to say that we didn’t fall apart eventually,
gutted matches caressing a flame for far too long –
This is to say that
I made a promise the night you left and
lifted it to the sky –
I will never forget you.
I promise, I promise, I promise.