Do our memories have memories?
You’re a distant dream
Like a burnt-out cigarette
Like a half-read novel
Like an unfinished book
Reeking of ideas, Of possibilities, Of hopes
Tossed away at some remote corners of this room
Corners my parched fingers can’t reach, can’t touch, can’t fathom.
Do our memories have memories?
Your porcelain skin so soft
The way they brush my hair
Gingerly resting onto my chest
Tending wounds so deep; scars that wouldn’t heal
And yet they heal. And yet they mend.
Do our memories have memories?
Like a flame so torrid you blaze into existence
Making love so fierce, so care-free, so wild
Not a thought in the world.
The sultry summer afternoons,
Lying naked in yellow mickey mouse shorts
Hair, an unkempt mess, lips with a hint of pink, eyes unflinching
Hand rolled cigars between your fingers
Head rested against mine
Pleasantly dull; slipping into mirthful oblivion.
-Anonymous
Image Courtesy: Pexels
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