Bits and Pieces

The way you kiss the top of my spine when you walk by
I can tell you woke up loving me today,

How you always stop me from picking at my fingers and you say
You want your Alessandra in one piece

…

“How do you put up with her?”

“I’m sorry I don’t know the phrase…”

“It means she is asking you how you got so lucky to find a woman like me.”

…

He had his fingers gently curling through the hair at the nape of my neck, but he took his hand away and I said,

“Why did you stop?”

“Because I have to be able to walk out of here”

…

You can’t read this,

But hear me,

You are loved.

…

Rebecca has thin lips but looked like she would be a good kisser if I gave her the chance. She dresses in green, a habit turned obsession. Green sweater, green jacket, and even her pens and journal are green. I typically wear too much red.

Together, we look like a Christmas gift. One worth unwrapping.

…

There were a lot of ways I almost loved you,
a lot of details we both held onto
and in enough time it’s funny which ones you kept and which ones I did.
It’s strange how we split the difference.

For example, I remember every time you kissed my forehead.
I have chosen to forget the moments we actually kissed,
the hips pressed into hips,
the night on the carpet when I was moving out of the country.
I had sold my bed and I invited you over to my place,
The evening smelled like bourbon
and the plastic of a deflated air mattress
And it sounded like the zipper of a closed suitcase
and I left New York, to go get married, and I did.