Montauk

who are you, that I loved?
you're just nothing anymore, an atom-thin skin of your Carmel tone,
I can't remember when you weren't hollow,
I can't remember why I've grown to despise you,

what drove me away from you?

I don't know,
I can't even remember what drove me to you,
I remember it happening, but not how or why or how it felt,

you are an alien,
and I hate it,
but the best thing for you is my non-interference,
I'm confused,

I've forgotten you and I'm so sorry,

I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,

I regret it now, but it is done,
your name is just a name,
no longer a force or concept of beauty,
your face is just another which harps pain,
but it won't let it kill me,

you remember the kindness, and it stings,
my memories suddenly and sharply stop at seven months,

tapered off, your scattered photos in a fire,
pages upon pages of poems,

space, incinerators, tears, memorabilia,

and a scattered handful of mementos,

occasional moments and their milestones

I wish we could reconcile, but I can't remember your transgression to forgive,
nor can I remember mine,

your voice slowly fades into an alarm clock,

jolted awake, I get my shower, coffee and brush my teeth,
currently, serendipity