I told everyone that I moved on
that I don’t remember you at all
but the forgotten twilight came every night
when my restless fingers would wake up
and search for a tiny secret place –
the pillowcase, the right side of the cold duvet, the dusty wooden head of my creaky bed
and dance to a tune I want to forget
circling and tracing the little crooked alphabets
that used to be my home
like a needle piercing a breathing canvas
it carved my fear
into my brittle bones.