Yes we had made love,
and perhaps became one
for a fragment
of those splintered orgasms,
escaping in spite of ourselves.
But when she says intimacy,
I think of the times you sat silently
and wiped with the ends of your shirt
the edges of my
red spectacles
as I kept on writing
feigning ignorance
of your presence, the heaviness of which was
its lightness;
that and the roughness
of the skin around your nails
which I grazed and you bit
in assurance, in anxiety,
in memory , in forgetting.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Thursday, September 6, 2012
And Forgetting ensues,
entering engulfing
as quietly as love had exited.
How nimbly his fingers work
unheeding on my memories,
lips tracing the scars marked as oblivion:
a moment's incision into a million segregate thoughts, and
where you were, a tingling sensation of enforced vaccum,
worse, worse than the pain you drew in your presence..
I cheat a little,
I refuse acceptance of certain facts,
like
I imagine you still remember what my hair smelled like,
before other sensations took over.
entering engulfing
as quietly as love had exited.
How nimbly his fingers work
unheeding on my memories,
lips tracing the scars marked as oblivion:
a moment's incision into a million segregate thoughts, and
where you were, a tingling sensation of enforced vaccum,
worse, worse than the pain you drew in your presence..
I cheat a little,
I refuse acceptance of certain facts,
like
I imagine you still remember what my hair smelled like,
before other sensations took over.
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