I remember how she told me
that she loves how soft her feet become when she
walks out of the shower, and now, I notice mine
but they end with toes of shapes alien to me,
and begin at heels which just cannot recover
from visualized memories of the time
I spent trying to imitate decent height with shoes
that would scrape my skin until my flesh would remember
that if I was meant to be tall, I would have been.
Maybe it was her velvety feet, or her head touching the
upper ends of your ears that made you fall
head over heels
in love with her, because I had neither; I still don’t.
On her wild, happy days, she would start screaming
lyrics, and names, and even random words
but they would all sound like music to me (probably to you too,
aren’t you in love with music?), and now I do the same. I twirl around
in my own symphonies until the world grabs me by my shoulders
and rattles me like a 6 month old’s toy maracas, and makes cacophony
about how I have been acting like her (again).
I would keep wondering if she had something about her or if I
had nothing in me at all, and I know now it’s both,
but this conclusion doesn’t make anything better,
and it couldn’t make anything worse,
for all I have left to say is
I do not blame you for choosing her over me,
I did the same.