AM Commemorations by Anonymous
It ’ s two in the morning , and I owe you an apology . As you wait on the tile floor barefoot beneath me , I step down the sod carpet staircase . Your hands grasp my waist , too reverently . It reminds me of when we ’ d wade through the river . We ’ d jump rocks as we jumped years . The water clearing the mud and sweat from our feet , we always used to talk about hiking the mountains , but never did . When we floated on your basement couch . The tapestry swimming above us , the pipe lounging on the wicker table , you said you loved me , and I said it back . You would always drive to my house after a fight , even when I didn ’ t want you to . I told you that I wasn ’ t good for you , but you wouldn ’ t listen . It ’ s three thirty and the wind is blowing the plastic blinds back and forth . We ’ re linked together like puzzle pieces , and I ’ ve never told you I can ’ t fall asleep with your arms around me . That I cried in the bathroom afterwards . That I met someone else while you were away . It ’ s four thirty in the morning , and I ’ m sorry .
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