I wonder how you would
write Me?
In bold strokes with a
firm
hand,
or barely penciled
between thin
blue lines?
You.
You were the exclamation point
on the paper of
my days,
the notes in my margins,
the ellipses . . .
And you will forever
be the unanswered
question
?
I tattooed you in first draft ink,
unedited,
across the parchment
of my life.
We will never be erased,
even if
your memory of Us
is.
Fuck, Feve. Excuse my crass language. This hurts me somewhere deep and lonely.
Xoxo
Yes, that is exactly where it hurts.
I like this one a lot!
Thank you.
Love the diction of this poem! Exclamation marks for the right reason. Glad to see you are doing fine, lovely.
!!! 😉
Nice to see you back again, Ms. Owl. Happy blogiversary. 🙂
etched in memory and on paper…great use of metaphor…