last impression

I cried the whole way home
and a little more
feeling so lonesome and hurt
that I scrunched my face up like a baby's
and let myself sob`

wondering what I did-
I tried so hard, really, and it wasn't enough
trying to wrap my head around
the concept
termination, ending, rejection

it came out of nowhere
I had so many things to say but
couldn't recall them, just sat there
dumbly and took it, like I always have

I'm tired of losing, tired of having more things to miss

the pain seeps out of my inner depths,
racks my body and keeps me up involuntarily
until 2 am, remembering him but trying not to
I wish he'd remember me, remember what I had
been once and seemingly aren't anymore

my evilest, most unrealistic part wants him
to want me back
but I'm forcing myself to realize I left
my heart privy to someone who doesn't
respect it

he's probably already lost in
his music, and friends, and the
promising allure of beach hook-ups
boys are good at forgetting,
taping over the screenplay of their minds

and here I'm left,
with all the memories and
sweet notes in his scribbly handwriting,
second-guessing all the "I love you"s
and tender things he'd ever done

they feel like the
belongings of someone, something that has died
you want to cherish them but can never erase
the sadness, their new irrelevancy
and so stash them away

I put them in a shoebox in my closet,
and on second thought a few days later
rip them to satisfying, illegible remnants

he had said,
"we've been acting more like friends these past few weeks"

then what was last Sunday afternoon
when we lay on the street,
close-drawn and content under the clouds?

were you conveying mere companionship
through kisses and lingering touch,
the tightness of your embrace?

what was that letter you gave me a week ago?
"no girl is worth losing you for"
so many words and gestures revealed meaningless

is it really that simple,
to go through the motions of love in
its absence?

I shouldn't have let myself love you,
shouldn't have tempted pain so blatantly
or invited needless sorrow into my life

and I knew that then, when you wouldn't even look at me
when you shrugged my head off of
your shoulder and sat there like a stranger.
I had to squeeze the words from you

you walked me to the door,
and in my glance up at you
I hope you read all of the suffering
and bewilderment,

not a first impression but a last one.