Memories

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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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