I got a cheque today for a hundred dollars Canadian

All the way to the bank I fought the urge to tear it to pieces

I am eighteen years old

Five years younger than you where

Human skin takes a month to shed and regrow

And it’s been a year since I’ve held you

The hands that wrote this cheque are not the hands id traced a hundred times

And the lips that spoke aloud the words as you wrote them-

you always mumbled, pushing your pen to the rhythm of words

- are not the lips I’ve kissed

They forget me the way they forget cigarette butts and the rims of drive through coffee cups

You sent me a cheque today

A goodbye letter acknowledging that you don’t need me anymore

But you know as well as I do that I still need you