After you were gone, I began to follow
people with beautiful mouths.
The boy with lips opening and closing
like a dark moth jerking into the light.
A woman with brown lipstick, eating a corndog
by the Ferris wheel.
A toucan at the zoo, clucking as it slid
down its bars, the heaviness of its head
twisting its body upside down.
I would find you by finding the most detestable thing about you
in other people. I never
had the attention span to hear your stories.
Never had the patience to love you like you wanted.
This is normal.
Other people come out of relationships unloved too.
Other people die unsatisfied,
leaving everyone around them
When you died, I spent a long time telling people
that we weren't meant for each other.
I spent a long time
writing down stories of unrequited love,
from your point of view.
For you, I didn't even alter the endings.
Laura Rheaume received her B.A. in writing literature from University of San Diego.