Deaf

I remember when
I ate feta cheese
at your house
in the morning
and now
my relationship with goat produce
is nostalgic.

I remember when
I stood in a garage
filled with smoke
and bad karaoke
and now
I only want to hear sing the wrong words
to the songs I barely know.

I remember when
I slept in your bed with two more
because the hard wood floors
were unenticing
and now
I sleep
alone

I remember when
we spoke for an hour
about your mother
outside the bar
and now
I drink
at home

I remember when you turned you back on the loud to embrace the lonely boy
I remember when everyone left the room and we did not give ourselves a reason to

I remember when I used to write poems
and now
there comes a time that
they are irrelevant
and now
there is nothing else
and now
there is nothing else
left
and now there is nothing else
left
to do