And you
For whom now
I
Do not even exist
Do you also
No longer recall
The flesh of my
Arm
Beneath your finger
The scent of my
Neck
On your pillow
Each morning
What a shame to let
Go
All that must be let
Go
In order to forget only
Well, only,
Just
Me
Jejune we were
And are, perhaps,
As one can be
Only
In middle age,
The middle way,
Now
That all the other,
So many other
Ways
Have crossed
Too close
But I remember
If you do not
That you always
Lit my cigarettes
Fresh
From a match
Not a Bic, and
Never,
No, never
From yours
I remember
Laughter
Lying laughter
Legs linked at the knees
Maddened
By the charm
So much charm
All the charm
Of one another
And are you
Now,
One of the unseen five
Hundred? My own
Tiresias
Blindly watching,
Wordlessly wondering,
Waiting only to see if
You
Are the ancient love
Of which I speak
No
I think not
No
I think no
I have learned
Across the years
Across these years
Across these oh so
So many years,
I have learned
Just how
Forgettable
I
am
And just how
Dead
The forgotten
Truly are.
c.sdmrogers 13 june 2015
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