Love Remembers

I never found it 
Difficult to love you.

I suppose that’s why 
I felt sucker-punched 
When I became your Mount Everest.

When once I was a staircase
We raced on toward loud music
And a closed door.

We were young,
We are still,
But I feel so much older
With my hair now darker,
the tiniest silver streak 
At the tip of your widow’s peak.

The brown in your eyes has
Less nutmeg, more burgundy 
Than it used to.

I’ve become thinner,
More of a smile than the
Sad, slam poetry obsessed frown
You loved me as.

We’ve grown in two diverging directions,
Like branches on a tree growing
Out instead of up.

Like acorns dropping 
Onto the ground, rooting ourselves
In different forests, carried by those
Who would break open our shells to
Touch us, bite us, and devour our naked bodies.

We are touching breath
That occupies the space between us, feeling 
It’s iron-clad atoms holding us apart.

We hate each other,
But I will always love you.
Even if that love is the size of an acorn.

Even if it is contained 
Within the confines of a polaroid
Print; a picture of the rain on our 
Soaked faces.

Even if it is a memory 
Consisting solely of your laughter.

And if there is nothing left
But the letters of your name,

I shall love you still.