May whatever Gods you believe
In bless the forgetfulness that has
Let me live through this year
And the one before that
And maybe the last one, too, I forget
The shape of your smile, and your voice
Has lost its sweet saccharine- I hear
Old addictions seem repulsive after a while.
34, feels like 43, in degrees
26, feels like I should have held on to
Semblances of happiness that we were allowed to imitate
Are all forgotten, I clear out
Shelf after shelf of space
In memories, in memoriam.
You were nice, mister-i-forget-your-face.
It must have been nicer to leave that day, I suppose.
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