I don’t know if anyone
has ever been so careful
not to hurt me. It’s strange how
that’s what broke my heart.

They say after seven years,
every cell in your body
has been replaced. I know
it doesn’t really work like that.

But it was about seven years
gone when I realized I couldn’t
feel you in me anymore.
Seven years and then

you had never touched me.
Happiness is not supposed to be
painful. My friend told me
the story of her first love.

Electric fix. Talking on the beach
until five in the morning.
Some foolhardy, euphoric
certainty. It sounded nice.

Seven years have passed, and I
share our tragic little stories
like they’re jokes. No part of us
is left. It’s just me here, and you

somewhere else. You apologized,
and I forgave you. I don’t remember
your smile or your voice. I don’t
remember how tall you are.

I don’t even really remember
why I loved you,
although
I remember that I did.

She was gentle with me,
and I wasn’t prepared for that.
Kindness is not
supposed to break your heart.

I think you taught me
how to love, but I think
you taught me
wrong.