Underbelly

I can still remember everything
that I try to forget.
Kisses mean nothing
and october
with a toe-headed boy
who bent from the waist to
wind loops and frizz
until I'd cave.

I remember sliding
through ice and snow and frozen ground.
A wolf who held me hand.
Cushioned by passive voice,
critics who hulled idle hands in unison
while another was betrayed.

I remember a walk in a downpour
of conversation and condensation.
The shirts were peeling like paint,
a false modesty, inching closer
to only wake up and discuss
the weather
and a love for a good dark roast.

I remember my drunk who made claims,
took my hand under flying diamonds and unlit chandeliers.
Exposed to what I had done
and who he wanted me to be.
Maybe, I did it all
Maybe, it was for myself.
These times that I could forget
or regret
but insist on remembering
and lamenting.
For some god forsaken reason.
I'll kill him yet with dulled senses and new experience.