I have finished with your body. <br /> <br />It becomes a new territory <br />I am not permitted to explore. <br /> <br />The swishing of the rain captures <br />my attention; I bask in its <br />wetness, in its forgetting. <br /> <br />Yet remembering. <br /> <br />A dash of salt on an apple. <br />A bit of soy sauce on the fish. <br /> <br />Gestures of life and silence. <br /> <br />The press of the pen upon paper. <br /> <br />I am without ability to shape the <br />desire that once consumed, the <br />roped knots that held promise. <br /> <br />The spices that added <br />meaning to my life. <br /> <br />I trace my finger in the dust <br />on the table. A world vanishes <br />under my hands. Streaks of <br />brokenness, of curling lips <br />hurtling venom. <br /> <br />I caress the flowers that I <br />planted in the spring. Now they <br />bloom in ever amazing vibrancy. <br /> <br />And then you appear beside me. <br />The flesh does not recognize <br />the flesh. The mind does not <br />appreciate the thinking. <br /> <br />So we embrace our darkness, <br />our forgetting. <br /> <br />Yet remembering to share <br />a discussion on the <br />dissolving, the rejecting. <br /> <br />I have finished with your body. <br /> <br />I give it back to you. It is not <br />mine to love anymore<br /><br />Chris G. Vaillancourt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/yet-remembering/
