Erased
if I were on paper, would you erase me?
slowly, line by fading line? Or would you
light the fire in the old chimney
and set a match?
or would you rather do nothing at all,
as if you and I were a nothing? And are you
regretting what could have been
with someone more like you
and not a bit like me?
one who is grace and kindness and a soft,
soft touch at all the right times?
If I were on paper
would I crinkle my farewells
to those I liked before you and I
were a you and I? Or would you render me
mute even when
not much is left to me or you
but old stones speaking our
promises, unkept? In an unkempt city
dirtied
by the waters of its rivers, and our lust
and the too young love. Unknowable as the first
kiss and a stiff hug, barely
improper.
if I were on paper, would you still be
the you that I know? Or have I, too,
erased you by becoming more, and less than
just me and you?
if I were on paper, would you colour me in?
would you make me pretty as I’d once been?
and would you tread gently upon all I’d seen,
all I’d been?
if I were on paper.
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