Stains

I tried to read other poems tonight
but they all sounded like you and
I can’t let them steal your voice tonight.

There’s a you-shaped hole in my gut
& the feeling doesn’t lend itself
to another pretty love poem.
It’s far from glamorous, or
lilting, or nestled in calm.

I didn’t want to love you.
I never wanted to hear you
in someone else’s love poem.

The tears are hot now, and heavy,
they come unbidden and I can’t
even remember where they’re from.

I find this oddly comforting.
~1/11/12

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