in my head
your face is blurred
as always
it’s not that
I don’t want
to remember
I do –
- but can’t
I put cucumber
on my eyelids
trying to preserve
the images of the day
I leave post it notes
on the lamp posts
when I walk home
I sing to myself
our conversations
and the lack of them
your name is the one
I write on the back
of the motel bible
together with Jesus
you stand for my sins
and oh Christ...
at the dawn
at the dawn
I still can’t recall
your faces
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