i am worried I will forget what it sounded like to hear you say you love me.

you are happiest in the morning, when the sun comes up you pull me close and say “what the fuckkk you’re so pretty and i love you.” Our last morning together, when I turned to get out of bed for work, you pulled my hips to you and said “don’t go.”  And I didn’t. Fuck work.

I keep thinking about the sunday before you died you were laying on the greasy faux victorian couch in your borrowed shack. I was sitting up at the end of it. you said “I feel like I’m gonna die soon” but in a matter of fact way that chilled me. to be honest, it made me want to leave you. Because I thought of you dying and the unbearable pain it would bring and realized I couldn’t handle love and all its gothic accoutrements.

I laid on your chest and said “i dont want you to die” I felt your uneven heart murmur beat, which you’ve told me that you’ve told me that i forget a million times- i say “i can feel your heart stop beating!” and you say “I have a heart murmur” I forget. forgetting is both a side effect of my petit-bourgeois prescription drug addiction and also forgetting is my way of getting by because it hurts too much to hold everything. and in spite of what you say when you feel up my arms and legs – I’m not strong.

my habit is to survive and i survive by forgetting but i cannot survive if i forget you saying “i love you” to me.



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