you i do not see your eyes
and think of emeralds
or a lush forest
i do not taste your lips
and think of honey
or an aged whiskey
your breath in my ear
does not remind me of waves
crashing onto the shore
and i am sorry
if you just wanted to be
my poem
the problem is that
your can’t remind me of things
when every fucking thing
reminds me of you
October 24, 2015
