just a memory

why do the insignificant moments feel the most profound? the ones that leave the deepest marks?

i’m alone in my apartment,

replaying how you would walk in through the door

how you would smile at me across the kitchen island

how you’d light a joint the way i taught you —

where the end result looks like a flower that we would collect

how your upper lip is smaller than your bottom

your grey duffle bag overflowing with clothes on my closet floor

your name on my ringing phone

your dog sleeping peacefully on my couch

and now, all that’s left

is the sound of the washing machine going