Wounds

I don’t want
to forget you.

I know
it will happen.

Space creates distance,
creates forgetfulness,

changes the tone
of our voices
till they are no longer
recognizable.

I wish I still had
a photograph
of you in my mind.

The one with you
in flannel and frown
looking after me
as I drove away.

I had hoped
to always remember,
despite oceans and deserts,
the way I hung on your lip
and sunk into your skin.

I never wanted the memory of
the strength of your arms,

the kindness in your touch,
the colors of your eyes
offering secrets and comforts,

all the reasons I told you
I would always love you

to slip from heart and mind.

I wish I still had
that slash in my heart
that bared your name.

The one time healed.
The one forgetfulness
is taking from me.

Not all wounds
are asked to mend,
some I would like to keep,
run my fingers
over scar tissue,
and smile
in sweet memory
of a man who
once gave me
the world.

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