What do you forget?

by Christos Polydorou

The slip ups. The mess
ups. The fucks ups. The
shake ups. The let downs.
The shake downs. The
melt downs. The break
downs. I forget the insanity
I mistook for passion,
and the passion
I mistook for detachment.
What I forget
is the way you
had tore at me,
which made me
tear at you. Is
this love? I
want to
forget
that
that madness
was anything more
than an aberration
of love,
love’s dysfunction,
you and me
fucking love up.

 

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