we disconnect like this is the end

I cut my hair hoping you'd see me in passing someday and wonder how you missed it. Didn't you check the internet daily? Surely you know where to find me still. Or perhaps I hoped that you'll sit next to me at a bar someday and buy me a drink without recognizing me, and maybe I wouldn't fully recognize you. And I'll move my hand around the glass in such a way that a vague memory of how I once held onto you between the blue sheets of your bed flutters around behind your eyes. She was something, you'll think. That girl! And you'll take a big swig of your drink and tell yourself that I couldn't possibly be that girl. That girl...? You'll force oblivion upon yourself, and with a crooked smile and a cornerkiss to the left of your mouth, I'll allow you.

Winter turns to spring and eventually memories become as objective as the patterns by which we get to know one another. We're always a suggestion of someone before us. A doppelganger without exactly knowing who we're haunting.

Surely you'll recognize that on the first night that I crawl back into your bed as this new short-haired girl...



with love and squalor,
ekw