compose

Because I don't think I can send it to you anymore.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704281204575002852055561406.html

sensory memory

I had a dream about you night before last. You were holding my hand, rubbing your fingers over mine, comfortingly. Our heads rested together. I wanted to stay in bed, remembering that for a long time.

 

That part of me is surprised that you haven't called. 

The rational part of me isn't at all. You don't break up with people, you just drop them from rotation.

I found a perfect gift for you today. I wish it wouldn't be out of line for me to send it to you.

blacklisted

That terrible sinking feeling that I get when I see a photo of you with her.

The time I was on the brown line headed back home after a weekend with my family and I was lonely and texting you. You remembered my brother's name and where he worked. I never thought you listened when I told you things.

The time I was making my lunch for work and you were watching me, then you laughed and kissed me.

Every time you brought me tacos and how upset you'd be when they didn't get the order right.

When you fell asleep with your face in my neck and drooled all over me.

Your hand on my leg under the table at Delilah's.

Calling me bosslady.

When you picked out the perfect gift based off of a conversation we had in passing.