Little Slips of Paper

It’s those little slips of paper
That break your damn heart –
Reminders of what once was
And will never be again.

A post-it with a phone number
And a dead grandmother’s name
Reminding you to wish her a happy birthday.
Did you call her that day?
Screw it, she’s gone.

A small white sheet
Neatly folded, again and again
With lyrics to the Mexican birthday song you sang to him
From miles away –
Your heart bursting with longing and desire.
Was his cold as he listened to you?
Fuck it, it’s over.