this is the 27th time i've written about you

i met you in april

and you forgot about me by november.

yesterday new hands scrolled through my pictures and they landed on one from my last day with you

a hundred memories pressed themselves against the edge of my mouth but i swallowed them back without even missing a beat.

i wanted to say something pretty about the security that used to come from familiar lips 

but the truth is i just didn’t know how

and i think that story is tired of being told.

some days the world just sits heavier than others and

some days the words don’t come as easy as they used to

some days it hurts more than i was expecting.

and its not that i don’t miss you anymore,

because i do

its just

i’ve run out of words for you.

i’ve smeared your name across too many pages trying my hardest to unlove you,

meanwhile you’ve occupied yourself with leaning in first for everyone but me. 

i guess we all have different ways of trying to forget.

and it’s not that i wasn’t expecting it,

because i was

it’s just

i’ve run out of words for you

and august didn’t last quite as long as i would’ve hoped.