I often think of that time between May and June,
that time between me and you.
When you made me my very best
and I made myself my very worst.
You clouded my judgment, drew torpid storms
over my once sound logic.
I made a soggy blanket out of your hurricanes
and let you fuck me up.
But I chose the blue skies, after a while.
They are empty but expansive
and I can stretch.
And I do not forget. I cannot forget.