I Know

I know you would be upset
if I told you that
I still have the shirt I wore
the first time we fucked


I know you would be upset
if I told you that
it is still sitting, folded in upon itself
on my dresser next to
her overturned engagement picture
love letters sitting on divorce letters
and a watch long dead
that I still hear ticking


There are mornings when I wake
knowing that I’m losing the little
we had, and like an addict
I need a hit to bring myself
back to that moment


and I carefully unfold the
creased rumpled pile of fabric
and breath deeply
smelling you
your perfume
your sex
your kisses
your words that sent me to my knees


again.
feeling, now, your seething body
below me
on top of me
around me.
and then I’m finished
and return the repository
with its silent secrets
and sink down from my
high,
to the dim blue room of reality.


I know you would be alright
if I lied.
I know you would be alright
if I told you that I don’t love you
that I never did, and never could