dis-missive.

dear you,

i have almost forgotten, but
you are still maddeningly there
like cigarettes or bubblegum or
the smuttiest smut
i can't seem to wash you
out of my hair.

mostly 'cause i'd rather not,
i mean, i don't mind the way you cling
like dust or sand after the beach
or the stickiest snot
i kind of like that there's a little trace
of you in everything.

it's not that i'm at all depressed
moving on is not that hard, you see
but though i meet and greet
and meet and greet
i liked you best
you set a standard that will be
fun to match, so thanks!

love,

me