I can’t drive past that old apartment near the river without mourning a past us.

The Lincoln leather seats gather my sorrow, replacing memory of prayers begging you to not love me like you did

When you lived inside that lithium floor home

You loved me differently in December

It was cowardly to stay then

And brave to be here now

Fighting the resentment that knocks my chest out of a nightmare early morning

That river is so inviting, I could jump in

My motion-sickness, it’s life-saving

I don’t mind to drink a day-old coffee

To stir a pot of yesterday’s past

Change the taste with a new bribe

Because I’m used to your waves of sweetness