the list

Maisy said to write a list of things I associate with you,

to help distinguish the constructed from the true

I take a deep breath and begin:

it comes back in waves,

fairy lights in tatters,

deleted highlights,

a lost snake earring—

no makeup

you are silent your actions are silent,

I think your head is silent all the time—

pyjama shorts—

feeling my worst looking my worst,

becoming your prey.

then there is the random

a freshly altered profile picture,

getting drunk on Disaronno because it tastes like juice,

I can’t see the boy beside me,

why the fuck did you tell me you had a skincare routine?

I tell her I don’t think the list is working,

she says to keep going

so I think of the songs you played:

At My Most Beautiful

Belle and Sebastian

a playlist on your iPad called Izzy Car Songs

I looked away

like I’d walked in on you naked.

I remember looking at you and thinking, 

if I don’t say his name I’m getting over him, aren’t I?

you were so composed

like you’d had a dress rehearsal before turning up,

you can lie on me, I won’t make a move

I won’t make a move

you did make a move,

a catalyst—

pieces of us are everywhere.

I took a leap on anger because it wasn’t sadness for once

but what about them?

what about comparison?

I’ve never lied so well, I said.

I don’t think betrayal is ever worth it 

but I’m not you and you clearly do, so

I guess that’s all there is to say

I guess that’s the end of the list.