Bottled Ships

When I’m curled up like
an unanswered question mark
lying in a bed
of cold linen
and memories,
I’d like to believe
that I didn’t dream the whole thing.
When all that remains of my tears
is a salty sidewalk
painted down my face
that echoes with footsteps
I’d sure you traced there,
I’d like to think
you are remembering the way
you once looked at me.
When I put away the dress
you said made me look like summertime,
I’d like to imagine
you’re still watching me twirl in it
around and around,
playing it back in your head
like a broken record playing our song.
When you tell me
we can never work
because of a million reasons
I had never stopped to worry about,
I wonder if I will see regret in your eyes,
or hear longing in your words
and I wonder
how long it will be this time
before I forget myself again.


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