Untitled #5

I think, sometimes 
I don’t remember your body.

I remember your lines,
of your shape / out 
your mouth.

But I left, somewhere,
your body behind.

I think, I know that
first morning. Or the
joke on the side of
the building.

But when he twists his spine, 
I am not brought back
to the moment when 
you took off your 
history & let me
be home.

I don’t remember your body,
but I am looking for it everywhere.