By spaceman
Date: 2002 Jul 17
Comment on this Work
[[2002.07.17.17.36.25275]]

Memory

It is a curse
to feel the imprint
of your touch
as a trick of
the mind
a relic of a love
that is no more.
And what good is
memory,
when even the
pretty, perfect
times in love
sting when they won't
come again?
I should be grateful
I suppose
to have the remembrances
I do, some so
strikingly clear
to me still...
but I give them to the wind
that they may scatter,
dissipate,
and float around me in the air
instead of lodged like a knife
in my heart.