rivers

a poem.

There are
rivers
on my cheeks, and they are
rushing downstream
faster than the Mississippi
from Minnesota to
Louisiana.

If only
the memories floating
on my skin
would row that far
from my
heart.

The river flows to my
mouth
jaw
neck
finding it's pathways
across my face
(and my heart).

even when my fingers
swipe at the streams
my lake eyes
dutifully send a new current
to replace the one lost.

a waterfall forms
on the edge of my chin
drip
ing
to the source of these 
rivers.

a blue screen reads
i
am
sorry
but no matter how
sorry
you are,
the rivers don't cease.
Your apology simply
canoes along the rivulets
taken by the tide.

there are
rivers
on my cheeks, and they are
all because
of you.