Strawberry Ice Cream in the City

I drove past your street last night, and all I could think at that moment was how excited you were to take me home.

I still remember the look on your face. You don't know how much I miss you.

This city is the last thing we share. Every busy street, every traffic light, spells out your name.

I wish we could go back in time. We’d drive around the city and eat strawberry ice cream that tastes just like your lips. I never knew I could love a person this much, who reminds me of strawberry ice cream.

You’ve drawn scars on my soul with a permanent marker. No amount of i-hate-you’s or brand new memories seems to heal the wounds.

I try not to keep you in my memory, but no one knows how hard forgetting you is.

I knew you for a little while, but I feel I need to unlearn a lot about you if I wish to forget you.

It’s a lot to keep safe in my stupid little heart. A lot of joy, a lot of pain, a lot of love.

For the last eight months, I have only eaten strawberry ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. That’s how much I crave your lips on mine.

But today, I hope to drive around town and not take the road that leads to you. Instead, I’ll walk into our favorite ice cream parlor and order chocolate ice cream that tastes like a lover addicted to cigarettes. I’ll breathe the smoke in and shape my scars into stars that look like art.

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