November 6, 2007
By Erin Rotary, Binghamton, NY


I wanted to remember you.
Your rough, fraglie skn above my chest.
Breathing, and saying my name.
I wanted to remember this.
The way hunger and scented candles striped me of my guards, and let my hands down.
I wanted to remember waking.
The dirty laundry and bed sheets
Stained with our dirty, gritty lust.
I wanted to remember love.
Coffee in the mornings and French vanilla waffers.
I wanted to remember truth.
The way your lips twitched in the sunlight,
And your head, buried in my pillow.
I wanted to remember you.
Your eyes smoking from across the kitchen table
In my apartmemt.
And the aroma of you walking out my door.
Like bad soup.
I wanted to remember it all.
But all i know is the night.
I remember the night.
Full with red wine and hanging bulbs.
Laughter and mosquito repellent.

I remember cinnamon aand apples.
And crust.
I remember your hands.
A powdery richness i called home.
A bad habit i call my own.
A remember the night.
And your stars.

This i remember.
This, and a Red dress.

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