The quilts, the quiet;
the weekend we only ate sushi
then rolled ourselves in the sheets
like ghosts, like goblins,
gobbling gluttonous—
for granted.
Leaving curls on his pillows,
he called me Dandy Lion.
In weekends, in time
breezing through so fast
taking it in only in the
moments between
the pages, the distance.
The silences, the spinning,
how sorry we were
when we tried to look back,
how hard it became to look
forward, for ourselves.
I’ll tear you apart, said The Truth.
Leave those memories for better things.
And we did.
We left
for better, for us.
The distance saved us
and the memories left us happy
enough.