The Dollar Section at Target at Midnight

I have a Halloween ghost tattoo on the inside of my wrist
it cuts
slashes at my veins with the purple exclamation, “Boo!”
It’s fake, of course. We were heading to the car. I wanted you to put one on too but I didn’t say it, like I didn’t day say a lot of things.
While I ripped the paper outline to get it ready to press to my skin
you kissed my shoulder and I couldn’t
see what my fingers were doing for a second.
We joked we had no water so we’d have to lick it on to get it to stay
It was the night
I let you go.

There was an old water bottle in your trunk so we poured the tears on it and then peeled away to the smiling face. The tattoo was fake, something was about to break.
It’s about the little things, you said. The little things that make us happy. I said yeah, I like when I have a pen that works really well and you said you like water and
I didn’t mention you because you were a big thing
But I got scared –

Now I’m sitting on my driveway. It’s midnight again.
I don’t want to go inside. Inside is where
we sat and you asked questions like if I could go anywhere in the world where would it be and inside is where my pillow still smells like you. Inside is where it hurts.
I tried to scrub the tattoo off my wrist, after that night, just with the water, no soap.

It’s mostly gone now. There are still some pieces that won’t come off. They shimmer, gold, and purple.
I think I may be scrubbing my wrist for a long, long time
when you are far gone but I am still here
Scrubbing at the little pieces that will never fade,
scraps of memories we could have made
Stuck to my wrist forever
The ghost is gone
But it still haunts me