Poem comes from prompt 23 here.
What have you forgotten already?
What has been prematurely
lost to complacent familiarity?
Do you still know the color of
my eyes, or even the
intangible way they
change when they are angry?
What will you wish you'd written
down, photographed, when
you've moved on?
Will you grasp for the sensation
of my callouses against your hands?
Will you miss my insomnia, the
way it afforded us a few
What will you regret not doing?
What will you hate yourself for
in the morning?