find me

i’m between the page numbers 71 and 72
of the poetry book where you hid the red rose
from your hot-headed brothers.
funny, they never liked me.

i’m the love letter that your mother torn into pieces.
taping the torn pieces together,
you kept it under your pillow.
that night, you cried a lot,
reading the taped page again and again.

i was broken when I shattered the snow globe
which you gave me on my 23rd birthday.
i didn’t like you talking with other guys.

i’m on the rusty bench of the park
where you slapped me gently
for not caring about us.
i’m sorry for taking you for granted.

i’m a soft kiss on your forehead
that your lover gives you every night.
i asked him not to break your heart as i did.

***

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