reverse

one year since i broke my heart,
tripping over cement i thought was sandstone.

one year and one month since my wrists
made their own music from bracelets with
bells that have long since fallen off.

one year and two months since it was my birthday
and we drank orange juice on the top of a hill
while the sun set.

one year and a half since i was too lost to walk straight anymore,
so i spun and spun until my dizzy soul pointed me East.
i cried so hard i could barely see where i was going.

two years since the last campfire that mattered,
where you took me aside, already far into the bonfire and the whiskey--
but i was too naive to understand that it meant
you wouldn't have brushed the ash off my cheek otherwise,
and the eye contact wasn't yours.

two years since i counted down not back.