I can’t quite reach the place
where the heart buds
like lips in black and white or
a movie scene so dark and distant
a life in a photograph you keep
without remembering why.
This is like all the boyfriends I have had
who I broke up with on my own
in expensive restaurants
outside of movie theaters
once over a phone
And I don’t apologize for anything,
because I am still not sure how to get there
or how I found myself here.
And I pretend I don’t care anymore.
but don’t you dare tell me that I don’t care anymore.
Just give me back, take me back
to the place where I could walk for hours
through weeds whose names I never remember
weeds that cut my legs and left thorns
at the edges of my finger tips, thorns that felt like
my words caught in the middle of this confession.