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Reminders of You
I look at the ground a lot.
It reminds me of you, but what doesn’t?
I’ve become a connoisseur of grass and asphalt,
Surveyor of tile patterns and sidewalk cracks.
I find things too, pennies sometimes shiny and
Broken pens who’s wasted potential upsets me.
I study shoes, mostly mine, sometimes
Others. That’s how I found you, spotless
White chucks I wondered if were new or
If you were meticulous. I betted on the
Former, and delighted to find it the latter.
Every lay in a deep green grass that’s soft,
The sun in your face overcome by laziness
And contentment that makes you never wanna
Get up. I never wanted to leave you, but
You left me. That grass dried became itchy,
Bugs crawled, and I broke out in hives.
We drove the same roads again and again
A passage of potholes became an intimate ritual
Trying to weave our bodies together, but never
Our souls. I memorized those pits, waited for
Someone to fill them, neither of us could.
Tile patterns are mainly mundane meant to
Blend out of mind. You made me think maybe
I wasn’t mundane, maybe I was worth noticing.
I should of known you would always look down
On me, walk over me, become bored of me.
Sidewalks make me feel like a child,
Grab some chalk play a game of hopscotch.
Hop to avoid land mines meant to explode.
The cracks they caused shifted us in ways
That couldn’t change, ways I couldn’t change.
When you drop a penny do you pick it up?
Does it matter if it shines? I think it does.
It’s easy to lose or forget things that don’t
Catch the light, you were the light I caught.
Now I’m discolored, corroded, wondering
If somebody would still pick me up.
Your pen broke as you wrote goodbye,
You said it was over and when ink busted
On your explanation you had enough.
Threw the pen and me in the trash
And didn’t look back. You left me
Leaking love and dripping painful
Reminders of our wasted potential
