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July 2, 2013


I’d forgotten all about you.
When you came rap-rap-rapping.
Ravenesque, at my door.
Repressed with all those childish attempts.
Murders I didn’t even remember.
Sleeping in the wasted snow.
That pathetic, drunken December.
But December was when you melted, too.
I remember that, of course.
All that was taken.
Remembered the sickness, but not the source.
Remembered the grave, but not the dirt.
Phantom pains in a place I’d forgotten it hurt.
Struck me dumb.
That skin.
That face.
Your voice and your laugh.
Old wounds opened in a red hot bath.
Flowed out in the water like your hair on my wrist.
You lay down beside me.
And we kissed.
It’s all coming back.
You know what they say about those who can’t remember the past?
Of course you do, beauty, I don’t need to repeat it.
But whence comes the strength to look back on the snow?
When you’re still living your life trapped beneath it.


From → Poetry

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