Lovers, Reversed in a One Way Mirror

They all just get stuck in my head.

Like little fun facts

my brain pulls out at any given moment.

I know his birthday.

Every year on the 13th,

I blow out candles on your day.

Tell the universe I hope you’re happy.

Or that time you told a joke about your dad.

Now, whenever I see him,

I think of the joke.

But I never say it out loud.

Because saying it would mean I remembered.

And remembering would mean

I still love you.

The first October weekend.

Your mom’s birthday.

She asked me—

“Hey El! Is my boy with you?”

“I haven’t heard from him yet. Is he okay?”

“I hope so.”

Poems you read to me:

“Feels like blue to me.”

“That’s my favorite color.”

“I know.

It’s also your favorite feeling.”

I wonder

if any of this

is ever stuck to you,

the way it stuck

to me.