Monday, November 27, 2017

Forgotten

I won't remember anything you said,
Last night, last week, or any time at all.
I'll try hard, but I simply won't recall
The smell of garlands, tasting wine and lead,
Feeling your heart beat slowly, seeing red,
Or hearing chimes. I'm waiting for the Fall,
But maybe it won't come this time. I'll stall,
Then I'll forget to dance. Then I'll be dead.

Just say there is one corner of my mind
Where all this will remain, unchanged, unknown:
The smell of coffee, and the telephone
Unheard among the lame, the meek, the blind,
And, yes, the innocent. Is it unkind
To question you? We'll both be all alone.

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