Memory

I have libraries
Of words
I have summers
Of memory
I have pages
And ink
That I’m afraid
I don’t
Remember
Writing
And the summers
They blurr
And the books
Well,I forget.

I have ink
Under my skin
But I couldn’t
Recall or
Tell you
The feeling of the needle
Putting it there

But
You,
Close.
Skin on skin
Matching me.
That,
Moment
Weaved into memory…

I don’t think
I could ever
Un-feel You

You,
I could remember.

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