This is a familiar dance, and I suppose
That this is the moment where we start pretending to
Forget the steps -
As if banishing all those shared moments to
Our subconscious is even possible,
But we're cool so we give it that old college
How am I to obliterate all of this from my memory;
Act like it's not your name settled on my tongue
When I first wake up
In the mornings?
And as if that's not enough, my numerous cups of coffee
Are starting to develop the peculiar taste of
Your skin in the shower and my own skin is
Beginning to develop more of those freckles that you loved.
How long will I take this constant mourning, the sun of it
Beating mercilessly on my back; these brown spots popping up
When am I going to start playing connect-the-dots like you used to?
The longer you're gone - the higher the chance that I might.