or perhaps you did not love me enough
or perhaps you never loved me at all.
if you forget the small of my back
where the pulps of your fingers pressed exhales
in the spaces between vertebrae in my spine
i will have forgotten the dimples in your ass
and the swerve of your child bearing hips
that end in bowed knees and duck flared feet.
your syncopated walk only the shadow of an image
echoing its dissimilarity in each ticking of this
second hand memory feasting on borrowed time.
if you forget the moment that you broke me
that you broke into me
that love and pain became synonymous
and we took it anyway because somehow
masochism meant that at least we could still feel something
that the pain killers and ssris
those sorry sons of an irresponsible system
hadn't numbed us yet
if you forget,
i've already forgotten what you feel like inside me
can barely locate the cells we exchanged
in the currency of friction.
if i forget you,
where will i go home?