This past Valentine's Day I was in basic training. I don't remember feeling as though I was missing anything. I take that back perhaps I did. I contemplated my last relationship. I thought about us as though I'd never be with another man again; the way lovers do when they're blinded by the sunset of their past relationship. I suppose though that in most cases, an ex has made a major impact on you -- you can't help but be hesitant about where to go next.
I want to return to that place
a shit hole one-bedroom apartment
where we rinsed love from our clammy
pores, feeling for the other's rhythms
in the slant light of midnight. I know you
by your colors: the black for the guerrilla,
the gold for the accents about your skin.
You were king I served with my whole
heart. I capture your voice in my memory,
it's inflections steadying my pulse to a soft halt.
Where are you now? Do you ever think of me?