she quoted from the saddest book
you've ever read like it was some
bible, your favorite soundtrack on a
stereo tape everyone couldn't forget
but didn't like remembering.

your dog died the summer my sister
was reborn for jesus down the street
and the air was warm in chicago but
cold in your basement, you gave me
an old sweater with holes in it and
said you could put me back together,

i couldn't fit into the heels your old
girlfriend left in your closet and the
stains we made on your sheets were
the same color as the sun setting,
a little yellow from the soda i spilled
and redorangeblack from the ash
falling off the tip of your cigarette, i
always thought it was romantic when
i could no longer see your face and you
turned the light on just to see mine.