(twin)

i remember waking      hungry, and you
                            sweatered and soft, made me          breakfast. in bed
                   i remember how to forget      the ache. hunger
memories can’t be      fed with sugar       water. i drench
                            the moments i can’t take                 back, with heat,
curling steam. to the beginning i try to write a goodbye              letter to a younger me. forgetting
                            isn’t like we want it to be. erasing           doesn’t undo. the ache
                                               reminds me         i am still that girl. i am still
hungry. in the morning          the place you slept seems too small to fit
         your bones and blood. i think i’ve always had this
                            morning yawn, this empty organ, this
bed.

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Melissa Marsh is a writer and photographer. Her written work has appeared in Sink Hollow, Asterism, The Scarab, and elsewhere. Her photography has appeared in The Shore and more can be found on instagram: instagram.com/autumnandravens.