July 17, 2011

hot candle wax

I stopped writing poetry when I realized every poem I wrote, whether intentional or not, 
was about you.
I didn't think you deserved anything more than "goodbye".
What happened between you and me was a long time ago, after all.
So I stopped writing you down on paper.
A ghost outlined in ink and pencil lead.
And you faded away into a blurry silhouette that reappeared only when I wanted you to.
When I was comfortable with your chalky presence.
I eventually forgot what color your eyes were, the sound of your voice.
Memories we created fell from my mind like hot candle wax.
I forgot you.

Then one day, everything about you, everything I suppressed and erased came rushing back,
almost as if you were standing right in front of me again.
You found a way to fill the transparency with solid lines and shadows.
And now I'm once again filling in the rest with ink and pencil lead.

1 comment:

  1. this is amazing julia. you're an incredible writer.


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