Rid of you

I wrote a poem once, about how every 7 years we renew our cells, and the pieces of me that once touched you are gone and replaced.

And yet,

I feel those that linger and that knew your breath and your skin whispering your stories to my new cells.

I feel them filling up the new pieces of me with fairy tales of you.

They wait until I’m asleep to connect across crevices and dimples and birthmarks to trade long ago tales of your touch.

I thought that in 7 years I would be a new me and thus be rid of you.

But my body is conspiring against me to make sure you are never a memory but instead a constant thought, a spectre, who’s touch is as near as it always was.

What a fool I was.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: