Clench

You once told me that where you feel regret is in your gut
realizing you were supposed to send an email but forgot,
that butthole clench
of a deadline you just remembered you missed.

Or like when your alarm goes off too early in the morning
(you said)
that pit of dread in your belly
”oh no”.

I wonder if I feel that way to you now when you think of me
when you remember me
a butthole clench:
”oh no”

I keep the promise you asked of me that final night
to not remember you as the monster at the end
Instead I hold you in my heart and remember
you walking too fast so we won’t miss the trivia before the ads before the trailer before the movie
the time I said water is falling from the sky and you looked out the window because you weren’t sure I meant rain
holding your breath the first time you touched me
letting me bury my head in your chest during the scary parts

I also remember when you were the scary parts.
I hold that in here too.

It hurts, to hold you like this, all at once
the parts are at war with each other
(not like that’s news to you)
but I’ve forced them into a kind of submission
or
my grip is getting steadier
or
the pain has dulled
or
I’m missing something.

So you don’t feel like regret to me.
You feel like a job that I’m starting to forget how to do.
You’re the deadline I’m worried I’ll miss
that butthole clench
the sudden realization
opening myself back up
”let me double check he’s still there”
I’m responsible for making sure
that You’re still Here.

I don’t even know if you want to be held like this
in here, by me
anymore

But it’s the only thing you asked of me that I can still give you
besides leaving you alone.