Will you forgive me for
forgetting your spearmint breath,
against the lobe of my ear?

I complained
constantly
of the pins and needles in my thighs
and the cherry stains
that you left on the curve of my neck.

Let me apologize for staining
your quarter zip
(coffee, tears, Smirnoff, sweat)
but I doubt you want it back.

Somehow we went on *reenacting
this same, same beat
of a scene that begins, rises,
never ends, always ends? and even
you grew queasy of this metronome.

But I’ve been without your hipbones
for 101 days and do you believe that
even after every curse I hurled at you,
I sure as hell miss you.