I want to remember your name,
the way it was
when etched into my skin,
pressed down with flowers,
remainders and reminders of
our wartime battles.
I want to remember the letters
that once rolled so easily
off my tongue
in the ash hues of midnight;
my lips and tongue
have betrayed you.
They do not remember
the taste of you, or
the letters that formed you
and even if they did,
my voice has forgotten
how to speak
our foreign,
forgotten
language.

02/02/2007

Posted on 02/02/2007
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