Corpus Callosum

I sold two eyes to forget yours, hoping for a fair price. But losing and remembering are not the same thing, I know.  My last day, I lay on Earth, stared up at the periwinkle sky. I thought about the boy who loved bleeding hearts. He witnessed them grow through the weight of time, took tedious notes as he watched them die. He was a botanist because his mother disapproved of morticians

I sold two ears so as not to hear your name is like driving over Michigan potholes. Temer, Temer—silence and quiet are not the same thing, I know. But the last I heard of you, the West was calling and the weather forecast a hurricane. Temer, Temer you are a balloon: if I let you go, you’ll burst in the atmosphere. Yet you can’t stay here, where not even Earth’s gravity can keep you anchored

You only stay to leave when you bleed, it drizzles like chocolate syrup over ice cream she only breathes to die, but I kept her still. Temer, Temer I have been wondering what will it take to abandon you? A well-aimed corkscrew, a copa or two? She’s writing poems again. I wish you’d read a few. Temer, Temer moss grows to cushion the earth but I learned the fall still hurts. Temer, Temer I’d wear you around my neck if it weren’t already bent

I would call you Amor, Amor but you never knew what to say—Temer, you don’t know I lay awake at night writhing in pain like a sick limb cut away.  Temer, you don’t know I placed my heart in a freezer so that you may live anyway. Temer, you don’t know we peaked in the plains. Temer, Temer    what I wouldn’t do to give up fear

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