five months go by (and it still feels the same)

everyday…
it would get a little
bit easier
but everyday
I visit your secrets
and you visit mine
but slow-ly
I start to forget
(and stop to cry)
but it's been five
(five!?)
months or more
and it had become
not-everyday
but then she called
(what's that tune?)
and reminds me
of you (and you&her)
but I felt
like my lips were sewed
shut
b/c I wanted to
(oh, i'm so sorry)
tell her your secrets
and keep mine
but I knew
it would just get harder
with that out there,
attempts don't matter
now (I know that)
but I still wish
upon that star
I could just say to her
with the next phone call
"he loved me too
it wasn't just you
and my memories
go back further
he loved me too"

Author's Note: Read "The Summers We Lost" for another poem about these people. And for Caitlin, I don't mean to hurt you if you ever read this. So sorry.