The softest girl I ever said I love you to
smashed me up the tidiest too
so my tremble should not surprise you.
If it does surprise you, then that means
sad is still startling, and boy, what I wouldn’t do
to be surprised by all this too.
I am weeping at the grocery store
again. Either it is because I am lonely
or none of the avocados are eager
enough. Why does soft still stay
forgotten? Oh if I could wash
the rotten in sink water, will the rest of
me suffer? I keep wanting life to be sweet
but if the skin stays sugar, then
I am nothing more than melting meat.
Oh, the heat of the evening
is how dinner greets me. Even
the best of me gets eaten by
what’s left of me. Is this what
remaining is? To feel so much
dust, you wonder what it is you’re still