By paperballet

don't look back

at 22 we hung out in bed, lazy as old dogs,
writing in our journals by hand the five things we were
thankful for. then a poetry prompt.

today let's write about "your hand in a jar."
today, we should write using the words "sticky" and "bemused."

i remember the air conditioning rarely worked.
the car even less.
rent and electricity were imperative; gas not so much.
sometimes, both of us in college- we lived on love alone
it would seem.

i do not remember the exact day the hall grew heavy
with shadows, or when the voices of other people became even
more exciting to hear, i only know it happened
and i started shutting the door when i changed clothes.

these many years later, you're dating again.
the first woman in seven years, since our daughter was born-
and she is coming to your house tonight
and you want me to take care of our daughter
and your dogs even-
so things can be perfect. i am trying to remain level-headed.
the world cannot love me.
one man should be enough, and it is, but i fear that
our bond which we have had since i was 15, will now forever
be changed, if not broken. i try not to think about it...
but i did and i cried.

i'm sure this, too, shall pass.
but right now, all i feel is afraid and for the first time-
completely unsure of my future.

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