It is like a selective camera
which captures everything
but only remembers certain
images…
Synonym taboo:
burn pictures,
erase all signs of
previous life;
but it is not entirely
foolproof:
each July, somewhere,
something reminds me of
your – day –
I have never been there;
I could never be there.
Obvious as usual,
surrounded by your countless friends,
what was I to you?
A passing blot of ink in
a thesaurus, used for reference sake one day,
forgotten the next;
only this time, the word
cannot be found…
it is lost,
irretrievable.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
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One Art, to recognize, must be,
Another Art to Praise.
- Emily Dickinson