If I Forget Your Name

 

I might look towards the full moon,

 

And lean towards the eastern rising sun.

 

Asking God if he remembers your name too?

 

He might create a cloud or two in dismay.

 

It’s not personal, sometimes he forgets, like me

 

To remember things, I haven’t.

 

Like the color of your eyes, because

 

I can’t recollect if they were dark green

 

But they possibly were a soft blue

 

That like hers swallow me against the mahogany fibers raining

 

Down her porcelain face.

 

But you are not.

 

 

 

Trust me, I don’t mean to offend.

 

I’m brisk like the wind, destined to

 

slide across, but never through. and

 

If little by little you grow wiser

 

In this autumn spectacle of reddish

 

Melancholy, one finds abandoned at an old farm

 

Against that same shade of blue you find

 

At the cabin lake, which again looks

 

Like her hair falling in front of her eyes.

 

You’ll know where this conversation is going.

 

 

 

It’s not like I’m in control here,

 

It’s only natural that the largest

 

Impacts remain through time,

 

and it’s just unlucky that

 

you had aimed for her crater.

 

Because now you and I

 

Have become uncomfortable, like a shrunken wool sweater

 

Rubbing against a wound I’d

 

Rather not open again,

 

And rather than let you go to waste

 

I am gifting you to goodwill

 

Because surely there is someone you will fit,

 

It just isn’t going to be me.

 

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