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Feb 2015
To this day I smoke cigarettes in their names
a collection of men
admittedly women
that after settling too long
sit somewhere between memories and strain.
I don't burden myself with the weight of their names
though a few of their impressions have become deepening stains
bruising, blemishing the favorite spots on my brain.
Earliest versions of the story have found personal inches on my skin
before I grew up I learned to let it leak in
sluicing through veins
burning the moments of where I had been
in attempts to remind myself of what remains.
RC
Written by
RC  California
(California)   
537
   SW
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