Denial is a thing with such power.
Silence, movement; then it devours you.
I cannot see you now.
I cannot smell your skin
nor kiss you
nor love you
And yet
In my memory I will do all of these things.
Sweet torture, sweet torture
The swansong sings.
I must leave my life behind
The parents, the others, the I people I know,
But where will you be, my darling?
What will you do when I cry for you?
You cannot hear me across the tides.
I love you.
I pray you hear it in your memory.
My voice will whisper it in my sleep.
Maybe the wind will carry it on my dreams
to yours.
Hear me. Please, God. Don't forget me.
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 6:16 PM UTC
Denial is a thing with such power.
Silence, movement; then it devours you.
I cannot see you now.
I cannot smell your skin
nor kiss you
nor love you
And yet
In my memory I will do all of these things.
Sweet torture, sweet torture
The swansong sings.
I must leave my life behind
The parents, the others, the I people I know,
But where will you be, my darling?
What will you do when I cry for you?
You cannot hear me across the tides.
I love you.
I pray you hear it in your memory.
My voice will whisper it in my sleep.
Maybe the wind will carry it on my dreams
to yours.
Hear me. Please, God. Don't forget me.