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The Rope

i'm not the youngest
i bet i grew old ages ago and
stopped counting after awhile
time and
clocks and
calendars and
sundials stop holding
meaning when
you're old like
me

i can't read analog clocks with my
old eyes
my skin, withered by the sands
of time
can't feel anything any
more
i kept my eyes open
while winds blustered
the luster and patina of my
body growing
so naturally
i went blind so
long ago i
don't remember what it's
like to
look at something
the things i can recall, though,
the way your smile broke your
jaw free from your cheek's cage
your chin,
those things i remember watching

i remember the color of your hair and
of your voice
O your voice
the roar of centuries has since deafened these
ears but i promise i
could hear your voice from anywhere

i remember your
hand and how it
liked the small of my back

it's been a long time since we spoke
longer than i've been alive or so
it feels but
with all the silence and
darkness and
the numb i bet
i could wait a little longer
to hear
to feel
to see
you

in ages to come you
will understand why some
things end like
sunsets and
spring gardens and
we did

when you
become
ready and
old
like
me





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