i can't quite stop.

there was that time when
we danced on linoleum
sticky with spilled coffee
and we were a lovely couple
in a filthy little hole;
we hid stars in our pores and
laughed when people said we shone
and our greatest aspiration was
only slightly more than a dream.

your laugh was a degenerate thing,
not unlike a sewer rat in a bowtie;
it's funny, but only if you don't think about it.

i distinctly remember your smell,
and i find increasingly that i'd like not to;
twenty-four hours is more than enough time
to forget you if i try hard enough
and it is inexcusable that i haven't yet--

[i am inexcusable.]