i wish we could talk about happy things

My friend,
what if I only used the softest colors
to speak in front of you
If I could reinvent the way
we remember each other
knowing,
very well,
you still wouldn’t love me
how I want you to,
how I’ve loved you.

Neither the language we feel, nor
the way you’ve padded my shoulder with
the weight of your contradictory phrases
could fill in
the crevasse
you carved
deep into the rolling hills

of my ribcage.