Sunday, January 20, 2019

a rational thought

I realize, halfway up the West Side on the 1 Train:
I have forgotten entirely the feeling of putting my lips on yours.
Do you remember when you couldn't keep yourself off of me?
Our legs once entwined underneath the bedsheets—
was that this lifetime?
my memory's hazy.

Your eyes hurt,
not because they are cold,
but because they have forgotten.

What an idiot
(objectively)
I was to let you go:

it would have been wiser to suffocate in sadness
than to have let you slip out of my arms.

The price of being with you would have been my sense of self?
You are worth more than intact mental health.

I chide myself for being so rash and foolish in October
to value my own happiness
above the sacred softness of your lips.

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