1. where it hurts

    i loved my little green pencil sharpener. you knew it, too; that’s why the day you left me you left with me everything - pictures of us, still framed, lining my bureau; your half-used bottle of cologne; an ache in my hips when i smell apple cider and pine trees - but slipped it into your front pocket. now, i nimble on colored pencils and watch the pink and yellow and orange and magenta stain my front teeth. i wonder if you’d still kiss me, lick your tongue over my teeth and laugh into my mouth; accusing me of ruining you in one more small, soft way.