Sunday, June 23, 2024

the sticky revery of remembrance Sept. 22, 2013

 


Her fingers drip with it,

even in her imagination,

gripping too hard until

it burst in her hands,

not sweet so much

 as bitter sweet,

 like all love is,

still she doesn’t let go,

holding onto it,

 feeling it throb,

 each beat of it

to the beat of her heart,

her rapid breathing,

the groan she hears

 she emits

as she keeps hold,

 not one bit of this real,

 save in the memory

of what once was,

 that perfect moment

 she says she

could have died for,

perhaps a part of her did,

part of her that went with him,

 part of her like him,

never came back,

 leaving her with

the sticky revery

of remembrance

the wish for it all

to happen again,

 clinging moist fingers

on something

 too slick to grip,

 a memory of love,

of a man she still loves,

dripping through her fingers,

and he may be dripping, too.

 



email to Al Sullivan

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