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.