Repression June 24, 2008
Posted by jewaira in Poetry.4 comments
Of course I miss you.
Every time I go to that place, little thoughts of you….
Golden beams of moonlight
Small shells
tokens of passionate moments
where moments were lived to the fullest.
But I take out a wide strip of masking tape
and tape this mouth over
so that I will not speak of you;
I will bind my head
thickly with plastic strips
to stop me from reminiscing
about imagined encounters;
I will rip off the plastic binds and
wrap them
around
and around
my wrists
holding aching fingers back
from the temptation of
reaching you.
Oh yes
I do exercise self control
like you.
You are non-existent.
But then what do I miss?
Never having smelt you, nor touched you, nor loved you.
