Divorce

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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