I am sick and tired
of thinking about you
playing tag with my thoughts of you
obsessed with being ‘it’ all the time
never once catching you
but what else am I going to do
with all the details of you
I’ve carefully filed in my mind?
What use can I possibly have
with all these colored glass
beads of information
the routines of your life
and the things that you like
that I’ve retrieved
sifting through the grains
of our past conversations
now that we’ve built this wall
and knowing you
should no longer be my mission?
Do I release them back
into the perishable void
I rescued them from
or do I pass them on,
but to whom…?

Sometimes I wish it were as easy
as flicking a switch:
the acceptance that you are
nothing but a short-lived episode

just a faint star in the
farthest end of the night
just a speck of dust
in my vast universe of concerns

and I could watch
carefree and indifferent
the tapestry of little hopes
that have your name on it
like dishwater spiraling
down a sink.

Today is Sunday.
I hope to wake up tomorrow
with all soapy residue
of this week’s episode
completely wiped off my mind.