“Only love can break your heart?”
Before I dabbed the washcloth across his forehead
I studied droplets holding the lamplight.
Each bead shimmered on his brow
And composed a halo of perspiration.
Escaped his bumbling lips,
While I accosted his anemic
Complexion. When he awakened
To a lucid formation of mind-
We said goodbye.
The next morning
He asked about the previous night
And the cause of purple bruises
Mottled across his profile.
“You drank too much,” I said.
From where regret shames the psychic apparatus
Lurks the motivation to remember.
He didn’t experience
The ache of recollection
Like I did. I owed him the pleasure
Of forgotten violence. There’s no such thing
As forgetting pain
After a scar forms.