leather

i may forget the constellations carved into your hands
and the story each bitten fingernail told me

i may forget who said what
who recycled
who prayed
who had a more dysfunctional family
all the pieces of you are blurring together
and the polaroid's colors are fading

but i won't forget the way your skin folded when you smiled
or the way i lost my balance
as i tried to make up for my lack of height
and my lips have never felt as poetic as they did
when i talked to your skin and sweat
and i read every secret your head was afraid of

our histories merged on a subtle weekend night
dim lighting
no expectations

the memories aren't as painful to reflect on as they used to be
but the words still sour the recipe
and although the bad is sucked into the gulf stream
and the lines are softening
and the ocean currents are arteries dragging the gray away from my heart
i won't forget why

why we ended
why i don't love you anymore
why my heart sank further into my chest
and still feels a little heavier

the stripes aren't as thick from the sky
but they're still too close together to be comfortable

i'll forget your grammar
and the misspelled text messages

i'll forget your hair
and when you pretended to like an nfl team

i'll forget your handwriting
and the sound of your footsteps on the stairs

but i won't forget the way you made me feel
the spilled blood and the scabs and the uncertainty
your angry kisses that brought me to my knees
when talking to you felt like planning a war
but i never said the words that cut you to the core

i couldn't walk away because i was addicted to the good
even though it happened a lot less often

see, our relationship was leather
stretched and worn and sexual in nature
but leather doesn't hold you up
hold you close
or hold you together
leather doesn't get you through stormy weather

so i'm putting this leather in my dresser to look at later
but i'm not going to let it into bed with me

at least, not anymore