Doris Gets Her Oats

hi, it’s me, and it’s been so long that the idea of me is probably a long-gone garden you once got your hands good and dirty on but i just wanted to see you, i wanted to see if you remember the taste of my tongue at two in the morning when we were both drunk. i wanted to know if you remember my secrets and carry them in the lines of your palms. i wanted to know if your calendar is full of dates that sing of us, of what was, of the night we fell in love, of the day we spent hiking through deep woods, of first touching each other in the gentle shy dark, of the morning it all fell apart.  do you stand like me, paralyzed in parks, overwhelmed by what you lost? do you flinch when the thought of me comes? does it come? do you sleep alone or is there a new person you’re sewing into your heart? do you still steal the covers, do you still get too warm, are you still a little afraid of the dark? do you still drink too much caffeine and got lost in books and love chocolate chip cookies? do you remember me? the things i told you, the things you promised me, the moments that we spent learning each other - do you remember what i did? could you tell me what made you leave? i just wanted to see you. i just wanted to see you. god, i hope you’re happy.

“You’re not like other girls”

“what’s your favorite position in bed?”