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Marks
March 6, 2013
You etched your mark in my mind before you left.
I’ve tried erasing you a thousand times,
But wisps of you still survive.
All my effort with you –
As always –
Ends with mounds of shavings.
I can’t draw anything anymore
Because your stupid mark
Wastes my space.
Each second it gets bigger
And each memory,
Each touch that I shared with you,
Each conversation that we whispered,
Each time you uttered my name,
Seems to ingrain onto the paper,
Your pen pressing darkly,
Until finally the paper is black
And my eraser is useless.
© Rosalee M., Lowell, MA
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