Au revoir mon amour, et merci.

Maybe everyone does this.

Whenever I go somewhere new I trace the streets
looking for traces of familiar ground
tracing, tracing.
I thought maybe
it’s because I’m a traveler
and we trace pathways
Like a map of our lives,
we trace our fingers and eyes
on the canvas of the streets
and the skins of people
writing our story
looking for home
maybe running away from it
Though aren’t both things
just the same?


When I saw you for the first time
you looked brand new
like a song I’d never heard before
but also one that would be easy to forget
every time I looked at you
it was like the first time like
I never got quite used to seeing your face
even if it looked so good
next to mine
it never looked like     it really            belonged                there anyway
How funny it is to me now
how mad I got
when you forgot the song as well
how arrogant I was
and infantile

We said it all along
we knew it all along
We bet against ourselves
we weren’t surprised when it ended
I wasn’t shocked when it was over.
The guillotining of my heart
was perhaps cold and sudden
but a sick heart
is sometimes best


I traced your face so many times
over and over
not wanting to forget
trying to memorize you
trying to map you
so that I could always
close my eyes
and still see your beautiful face.

Thank God I failed.