frozen moments

I threw out your mango sorbet
and I thought that I’d let the last trace of you melt down the drain. 
Making space in the overstocked freezer, 
behind frozen moments 
mindlessly shoved between peas and homemade vegetable broth.
Frozen moments of December 21st and every day before,
rose-tinted scenes from a naive life,
of plastic-wrapped flowers on the passenger seat in the airport parking garage
wedged between a jar of freezer-burned tomato sauce.
Your mom’s birthday dinner laughter in a Ziploc stored beside
strawberries that left a red sticky stain on the freezer door.
An Xbox controller.
First date jitters.
Holding your hand when your grandmother passed.
Frozen mixed vegetables with a tear in the bag.
Cold memories frozen in time, 
untouched by the heat of my silent rage 
boiling over on the stovetop,
wanting to scream and humiliate you,
but showing restraint only in spite,
knowing you want to be burned by the boiling water,
us both knowing you deserve it,
and not giving you the satisfaction of the pain.

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