I remember your soft skin, The smell of your ear, The way you fried the eggs for breakfast. I have stopped eating eggs since you Left. It’s hard to stomach what could have been life When everything else has Died. My memory is like a tree now, Maturing with time and providing a place to rest From the chaos of the world. It’s quiet under the tree Most days But sometimes the tree drops a rotten fruit whose sweetness stinks And I begin to feel sick all over. When those times come, I go for a walk around Town and think. I remember windows down on fast car drives. I remember your electric kiss, Your asking eyes. I remember your soft coos. But mostly I remember your Tears.
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