Maybe
if I can capture you on paper,
I can keep you.
You see,
I had hoped for the memory of you
to fade with my summer tan
but now I find myself greedy,
indulging in thoughts of you like a child sneaking chocolates.
I am thinking of you
sitting with me on a lumpy twin bed,
and wanting so badly to memorize you.
I asked if your hair was course or fine.
You let me run my fingers deeply through it
and there was an aching and a hollowness in me,
knowing your palate preferred a more balanced plate.
I never had you.
But I did, didn't I?
Just for a paragraph, but that's alright
because it belongs to me.
Iis mine to take out and taste in spoonfuls
or in buckets, or to stifle in a wooden box,
but it will always seep through the tiny fractures
and spill onto the page
because
that is the power of memory and words.
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
Maybe
if I can capture you on paper,
I can keep you.
You see,
I had hoped for the memory of you
to fade with my summer tan
but now I find myself greedy,
indulging in thoughts of you like a child sneaking chocolates.
I am thinking of you
sitting with me on a lumpy twin bed,
and wanting so badly to memorize you.
I asked if your hair was course or fine.
You let me run my fingers deeply through it
and there was an aching and a hollowness in me,
knowing your palate preferred a more balanced plate.
I never had you.
But I did, didn't I?
Just for a paragraph, but that's alright
because it belongs to me.
Iis mine to take out and taste in spoonfuls
or in buckets, or to stifle in a wooden box,
but it will always seep through the tiny fractures
and spill onto the page
because
that is the power of memory and words.
