i forgot your number and it shames me 

grief chugging up my throat 

whenever i think of you —

i still haven’t returned

your last call. 

we spent twelve years 

memorizing each other’s 

handwriting but i can’t 

even type out a few words.

i just don’t know 

how to say it. 

i tell everyone but 

you that i’m sorry.

sorry to the bathroom mirror 

i keep forgetting to clean and 

sorry to every person 

i bump into on the street. 

sorry to those two summers

i never talked to you

and sorry to the months

in between when i never tried. 

my parents always said

i was a people pleaser

i fear i’ve become 

the opposite. 

still i wonder if 

you’ll ever forgive me. 

i’m only writing you this 

because you’ll never see it 

(so help me god)

on the days i know how to apologize

i return your texts. 

i tell you about my day. 

i send a photo of

the book that reminded

me of you and don’t 

hesitate to suggest we

read it together. 

i remember to

eat breakfast

and wash the 

dishes after. 

i go to class.

i even take notes. 

i sit on the 

couch and read. 

i don’t listen to 

music too loud.

i agree to call on 

saturday. i don’t lie 

about my week. 

i write you a 

letter and you 

write me mine

and i smile seeing

your handwriting

hasn’t changed. 

Contact Sunny Sequeira at [email protected].