he tasted like sweat
and broken dreams
always salty and a little bitter

i always fall so hard
i screamed at the night
as it turned to light
why me, what is it about me
that has me so completely obsessed
so wildly possessed

i am never gonna let go
i realize as he tells me
he is done with me

and despite the urge to re-story
i must admit (for my own dignity)
i chose this
i did, i chose this
for sure, i did
i chose this too

and wow
it hurts,
it hurts in my most tender place
and i, i am scared, really scared
that he made memories in me
that i cannot get out of me
that are forever etched
in my psyche

you know
the kind of memories
that murder
the mundane
and make existing
(just existing)
worse than dying

the kind of memories
poems are made of
and greatest hits rely on
the kind that remind us
of our infinite capacity
for a sober ecstasy

“so, would you trade it all
for a slate wiped clean”
she asked
as she always does
with a half smile, knowing
(even as i dance with agony)
i will never
i would never
(even in my most extreme suffering)
want the slate wiped clean…

“i suppose
this means
the joke’s on me”
i said
letting her eyes meet mine
for a moment
almost playful
through the tears

reminding me…
i have something
you will never know
a knowing just for me
a truth that insists
on coming through
(as i do, even when not wanted
even when dismissed and discarded)
a truth that persists
and pierces through
even in the crumbling
(even in the breakdowns
disintegration and confusion…)
a light that refuses
to go out (no matter how hard
it rains, or how many storms
keep crashing through)

i have
(more than once)
loved the ones
who don’t love me

this isn’t new
just seems increasingly silly
if not complete insanity
to keep trying
to win over
that which
doesn’t wish to be won

i imagine someday
i will meet him
my comrade in extremes
a boy who
like me
insists on pushing the edge of possibilities
while making love into memories
so sweet they are sure to become
the fabric of our forever dreams

“you look tired”
she said
placing her hand on mine
to stop the quivering

“oh, i am
i most definitely am”

maybe you
let me sleep
now please
yes please
let me rest

i think
i just need
to rest

a rest
before
i am ready
to love
again

❤️ emily joy rosen

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