on your birthday i pretend to forgive you
i let it last, though just on paper
on the late train i’m asked if i mind a bitter man’s drinking
and he laughs when he says thank goodness no one smells, right?
i’m alright walking around when i know i’ll be found
make eye contact with the notary to
prove that we have mutual understanding i am who i am
thirty eight days ago i didn’t think twice about
her girlfriend my god, its been thirty eight days
i didn’t know phones rang through the halls on trains
i’m leaving sticky notes so they don’t forget me
thirty eight days later i’m trying to untie laces
i’m not infatuated, i promise, only if
it weren’t my due diligence to gnaw at your eyes
i’m reframing feigning forgiveness and
wondering if you keep her afraid
thank goodness i don’t let it happen to me, right?

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Ariana Eftimiu is a recent graduate of Barnard College, Columbia University, in New York City. When not writing, she is making a several-hour-long playlist on Spotify or on a long walk accompanied by a coffee and her loved ones. She has published work in the National Poetry Quarterly, Not Very Quiet, and the Columbia Daily Spectator, among other places.