Love and Words

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Memory by Numbers

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five-oh-five,

two and one,

one-nine-eight-five

six-ten, 

or was it, 

twelve?


What is there to say

when the whole world

becomes so small - 

it's just a room with tile

and lights on the wall?


one-nine-eight-five

two and one.


What good is it, 

when these memories of freedom

have become our history,

and every new breath

a punishment.

Every new thought,

a rejection of what has been.


five-oh-five


I can't see you anymore.

You've faded from the screen.

No longer important

to anyone but me.


And five-oh-five 

ten -

or was it twelve?

 

Even the corner,

the fence,

is still decorated with flowers

but the candles

have long been spent.


And of all my dreams,

of all my dreams, 

to come true,

did it have to be

the one

about you?


one-nine-eight-five

two and one.


I gave you away. 

In that moment, 

in that time,

when the world seemed so small

there was just you and I, 

I let you go,

and you watched you walk away.


five-oh-five

It was on

three eleven you lay.


My heart 

is broken.

My mind is undone. 

Is this god's punishment

or the just the curse

of being alone?

 

I never thought,

although I prayed,

that one day 

my dreams would come true,

but did it have to be?

Did it have to be?

The one

about you?


The roses 

hang on the fence, 

petals falling to the ground, 

covering the wax and

trying so hard

to soften 

the concrete

that held you last. 


Although I never understood

the choices that you made, 

I know what home is, 

and the drive of the heart

to find it where we may. 


But I am wondering, 

where you would be, 

if in that moment,

I hadn't

let you go, 

and watched you walk away.


In 

Five-oh-five,

You were twenty-one.

 

Born 

One 

Nine

Eight


Five

Six

Ten, 

or was it, 

Twelve?


It was on three eleven

that you laid down,

and your life

ran onto the ground

till all that was left

was none.


Five-oh-five

Two and one


It's memory by numbers,

written on my body,

so your history

is never

undone.

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decagon          poetry 

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