Retro

It used to be
when I couldn’t
sleep
I wrote

to you.

But that,
like the memory
of the sudden
bolt,

like the memory
of hiding and hoping
never
to be found,

pales.

Faded and hazy,
those times are
burned negatives;
outlines

of who we were
of who we will
never
be again.

Now,

in the sleepless
night, I stretch a
timid finger to
those edges.

Trembling, I
trace their fractal
forms, fearful of
too much

recall.

A blind Sphinx
uncertain of what
lies
beyond riddles.

© sdrogers 28 june 2013

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