He Said

He said; 

you have a triangle of freckles on your left wrist; 

just above the bone; 

a right angle;

and a mole two fifths of the way up your spine.

I remember kissing it as you lay on my bed.

He said; 

I drank three fifths of vodka the night we broke up; 

but the bottle reminded me of you.

I drank it all and went to sleep. 

In my dreams you smiled at me.

I didn't have the taste of vodka in my mouth.

He said; 

I had you, kissing my lips;

and making plans to travel to Peru. 

I don’t remember why we were going to Peru, 

but I wanted to go wherever you wished to; 

so we planned the trip, 

which left me feeling a little hollow when I woke up.

I said;

I remember your lips on my skin, 

my bare back against your stubble.

I remember the freckles you drew dots between, 

so they wouldn't get lost.

I said;

 I remember drinking half a pint of whiskey before I could call you,

because breaking up with you would hurt. 

But sometimes you have to break bones before you can begin to heal;

we were broken, 

so I broke us more and now we’re both healed and healthy.

I said;

I dreamt about you too, 

although we were travelling through a forest,

where the trees snatched at our ankles.

The sky was the colour of your eyes. 

I remember waking up and feeling like

the world was collapsing in on itself;

but the sky hadn't fallen on us yet.