Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Your Traces

I hate your image in my memory. It is there that my longing sharpens and my loss burdens. My heart pumps brokenly.

You have no right to inhabit my brain, to invade my sleep. You parry my affection with rash judgment, unseemly fear, and bitter scorn. An amorous hussy, you devour my sensitivity. And cackle, lustily. Your yellow teeth are stained by use.

There you stand, a monster in drab. Cruel, cold, beautiful. Repulsing my reason. And so I forcefully shun every trace of you, fighting your scent from my senses.

But I will never forget your eyes that night when, moistening in the dim light, they watched me as I backed away.

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