I Remember You.

A distant face,
once pretty

now
ill-defined,
drowned
in self remorse.

I remember you

misinformed and
misaligned,

manic
you bled me dry.

A childless mother of convenience
or should I say dilapidated?

I could mock you,
snigger in the back room

or

hold my helping hand
high.

The moment of fondness buried
ten years before

still scored across my eyeline
as the tears forged roots.

I travel back,
recollections lucid,
haunting every move

till now,

I see the hate

haggard and
hidden
like a photograph
torn,

the band of gold slung across the room

melted,

forged myself into the iron fist,

I raged against
the lasting memoir,

could have punished you deeper

the hot blade of my tongue
through your bleating mind,

lashing at your lilac poison
perfumed,

choking

as I recall your words

‘I will love you,

always.’

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw