Memories

I want you to know this,  
If ever there is a time you come to
Find this; I'm a bit hot tempered,
I'm a flare, a spark, an unsteady
Hot breath in a winter landscape.
You can't cling to me for reassurance
Just as much as I can't cling to
You in desperation.
Your memories are gone,
Mine stay intact, I could cross rivers,
Map continents and kiss that birthmark
On your skin, all with the memories
We created.
But you don't even recall my name
Let alone the way I taste against
Your lips, or the fallen words
Spoken aloud at one.
Who would 
Have guessed that that time
Would stick with me in every
Metaphorical, melodic, sense
That could ever exist?
But who would have guessed that
You could forget everything
And maybe I blame you, or perhaps
I blame the amnesia.
But I'd like
To think that if ever you love a person
They, a like with their memories,
Never fade.
Yet, you, allowed me to fade.
For what?
So I could become a faux
A make believe reality, transcribed
And recited, spoken over, oral
Tradition, no real rendition.
I let you slip, and at times I blame
Myself, but most nights I linger too
Long on the devestating knowledge
That your lips aren't as soft as 
They used to be.
And your hands
Don't remember my fragile bones
Or the land they treaded on to
Find me.
If I could give to you memories
I'd give to you a shining star
A lonely whisper, and the millions
Of breaths that you destroyed.
If I could give to you wishes
I'd give you more genies than lamps
More mirrors and photographs than
Masks and make up.
And if one day you ask for fulfilled promises
I
'll bring to you the roads we could've driven on
To get to the places we never visited
Where we'd plan our life out with
Hailey and Alex holding our pinkies.
Category:Poems
Category:Euterpe's Poems