That the width between your shoulders is six of my hands.
I have burned into my mind the way that your torso alined into a 36 inch waist, and how your right hip almost pops when you walk.
You never walked right beside me, except for that one time when you made a joke of it, always half a step in front of me and always on the side of the traffic.
You said your mother taught you this,
I wish she taught you to walk slower.. I always felt like I had to run to catch up to you.
When it ended I said I would forget you,
it was a threat I made, I wanted you to feel it in every place I ever touched.
I wanted to burn you right down to bone and heart ache.
You said that you hoped I did - “There is no good in remembering something that God hasn’t prescribed for you”
And your words ate through my skin,
until I was only bone and heartache left standing,
and I never forgot you,
a punishment from God.
I missed your skin while you were East.
You clicked your heels and wished for me.
My only regret
is looking into your
and assuming something else
was causing the pain -
something other than
your own twisted soul.
You’ve always been
nothing but a victim