In Memory of a Palm Reading

almost
six months and it
kills me that I have forgotten
almost nothing
about you, not your voice or
your arms around me or the
details of your hands
(there's a spot,
yeah, just there,
that I noticed when I read
your tanned and scarred palm.
told you it meant
that you would fall from
"a Very Great Height."
this was right before I
pushed you from the table
where we were perched.
don't bitch at me, that
was totally funny.)

it makes me wish that I knew
there was someone
out there in the world,
who was memorizing me
like I have memorized you.
who would remember the scar
below my eyebrow and
the stupid stories and the sound of
my laugh.