Crystalization

My newest poem:

How can you sit there
calmly
and talk on about the red wine you
spilled on my favorite purple shirt,

or the plants you have been growing
in the faded white boxes
that I have seen you clutch to your chest
as if they were your children?

I sit here, a wreck at the sight of your
messy hair and stained t-shirt that
wouldn't even be sold at a thrift store.
We gave you a name, a code that I

say lovingly whenever I'm pretending
that I'm angry at your constant presence,
and the way you saunter back into my
life like I was put on hold for you at

the grocery store. You don't know any of it,
the sleepless nights, the haunting dreams
where you are out of my reach
and glad to be there.

So I keep it inside, like a bottled memory of
coke that fizzes when opened.
And still I sit here, a nervous wreck, and wait for you
to reappear the next day with your

white boxes and stained shirt
so we can continue the conversation of
your project, and my love for you
that I can see slipping through my

fingers as the summer nights
grow colder and the sky gradually
fades into
night.