Photo by Natasha Kalsi
How do I write about
anything else
when his face is tattooed
on the inside of my eyelids?
After careful thought
and consideration,
I have determined that
it is not possible.
And you may think
“Oh silly girl, he’s only one person
and you have a man who feels like
Christmas Eve.” You’re right, I do.
But tell me, how do I begin
to craft words together
when my vocabulary consists of
the four letters in his name?
How do I stop
hearing his voice in
every passerby?
I’ve tried.
I’ve tried.
And I’ve tried again.
Yet his scent still lingers
on my bare skin.
What use is this pen
if it only writes of him?
I’ve got other things to say,
believe me I do.
One day (I can feel it).
One day (I can see it).
One day
I won’t write about you.
Kindergarten 