I am waiting for enough moments
to pass until
I am no longer fighting urges
to call him.
I go through the motions of my day,
slowly unfreezing,
hurriedly wondering,
at what point is it acceptable for me
to be light again?
Some days have lighter moments
which cloud over with guilt:
How dare I be okay?
What about him?
Is he okay?
I am waiting for enough moments
to combine until
I start stitching myself back up,
through packets of time.
/michal
Who knew
That the first time you tell a man you love him
Is after you have broken up with him
And you’re just trying to be honest
Who knew
That you could be in love and unhappy
And have to choose
Which one matters more
/michal
I knew I loved you when we went swimming
And you read poems to me from the Icelandic book I got you
And we saw that raccoon
And I wore your sweater
And you hated the cold water
And you were sick
But I kissed you anyway
Knowing that I was in love.
I left you
A month later
Still in love
Knowing I would see you again.
And you wrote to me
Months later
Looking to see where I have gone.
I tried to show you but I felt too much
And you said too much
So I left you again
Still in love.
I knocked on your door
A month ago
Asking to try again
And we did, but I was unhappy.
I have left you, one final time
Still in love
With you you you(.)
/michal
I’m real
I’m here
I’m here
I’m so here
All of me
/michal
I wonder when
the you
in my poems
will no longer be
you
/michal
I don’t love myself
Enough
To let you go
/michal
Oh, but darling
How did we get here?
I am in the post-love phase,
afraid
to call because I wouldn’t be able to hang up.
I shed your ghostly presence
Wondering which parts of myself
I lose in the process.
Remember that time in the car, at
Lookout Point?
Remember the birdshit on your shirt?
Remember the stuffed peppers?
Remember me? I try to.
/michal
meet me in the common room 