Find solace again

(Illustration by Adelaide Miller)

i forgot your number and i’m ashamed

throat pulls throat

every time i think of you –

i still haven’t come back

your last call.

 

we spent twelve years

remembering each other

handwriting, but I can’t

even type a few words.

 

i just don’t know

how to say it.

i tell everyone but

you’re what I’m sorry about.

 

sorry mirror in the bathroom

i keep forgetting to clean up and

sorry for everyone

i stumble on the street.

 

sorry for those two summers

I never talked to you

and sorry for the months

meanwhile, when I never tried.

 

my parents always said

I was a pleaser to the people

i’m afraid it has become

the opposite.

 

still wondering if

will you ever forgive me.

 

I’m just writing this to you

because you will never see it

(So ​​help me God)

Illustration of the hand of a man writing a pencil with a pencil.  At the bottom of the letter, in parentheses, are the words
(Illustration by Adelaide Miller)

on those days when I know how to apologize

I return your texts.

I’ll tell you about my day.

 

I’m sending a photo

a book that reminded

I’m with you and not

feel free to offer us

read it together.

 

I remember

eat breakfast

and wash

dishes after.

 

go to class.

i even jot down.

 

I’m sitting on

lie down and read.

I’m not listening

the music is too loud.

 

i agree to call

Saturday. I’m not lying

about my week.

 

I am writing to you a

letter and you

write me mine

and I smile seeing

your handwriting

has not changed.

 

Contact Sunny Sequeira at ssequeira@nyunews.com.

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