The cold burned
through skin,
and entered my
heart
as if it
belonged there—
as if it still
had a key to the house
but hadn’t been
home in years.
I forgot what it
felt like,
to feel.
I forgot why
every morning
I got out of bed
and made coffee;
and in that
coffee, removed the bitterness
with cream and
sugar
like I cared
about the taste
and not just the
caffeine.
I forgot why I
needed it,
until my coat
could no longer
protect me from
the cold
because it had
stolen inside.
We forgot a lot
of things…
Didn’t we?
We forgot the “I
love you”
at then end of
our calls.
The holidays
passed,
and we forgot
what we were celebrating.
But we never
forgot to lock the door,
to make the
coffee,
or to wear the coat.
I signed my name
under yours,
unable to forget
the ice
that turned my
arties into icicles.
Yet, you still
had the ring I put on your finger,
even though you
forgot why you wore it.
A.M. Luther
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