November 17, 2010
I have a lot of memories
That aren’t really mine
Like the time we sat on the edge of the cliff
Feet dangling over a fall that would have set my heart beating
To rapidly to breathe
The sharp stones pushing against my jeans
The dust sifting beneath our hands

There were
Moonlit nights that I stayed home for
When the stars painted the leaves with silver shadows
And autumn days when I forgot to look around
At the old, rusty life of the trees

There was that day
In the park where trees became our homes
The grass soft beneath bare feet
Our voices calling
Weaving into the song of the world

And I
Remember the day I was home sick
The echo of feet on the marbled floor
The shriek, the laughter of
Sudden surprise
And immaturity
When they threw the condom on the desk

And dopplaring
The shrill distance shrinking into a heartbeat
That I
Never heard

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