Forget me she entreats.
I do. Everyday I forget you.
Forget stubbed fingers
never reaching piano keys properly.
Disregard the image your lips parted,
chin raised to meet me.
Let me go she pleads.
I do. Every day I release you.
Release the recollection of hipsway,
let loose skirt’s subtle shadow
of where your thighs meet.
Be done of me she implores.
I am. Everyday I am done of you.
I close the book holding scant keepsakes
of our few forever-days together.
Everyday, I open it anew.
(cc) Karen G. Johnston
Sunday, September 14, 2008
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1 comment:
I keep meaning to comment on this and never get around to it. Nicely done.
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