Unwrite Me

Wednesday, April 22, 2015 Comments Off

Let me be the ashes of your cigar, tossed over without regard and care, but with precise calculation and predictability. No longer your valued engraved gold lighter.
Let me be the short lunch break, unfinished sandwich half-bitten, with crumbs all over your lap due to the swift munching. No longer your Saturday night gala, those fine-dining events that require tux and bow tie.
Let me be the overused tennis shoes on the back of the rack, unseen by the eyes, hidden fully in the dark; forgotten and considered missing. No longer your cherished expensive trainers.
Let me be the broken hanger on the wall, just another interior decoration that your subconscious eventually disregard, filed under 'part of the wall'. No longer your house keys.
Let me be the stack of old magazines supporting your nightstand, completely invisible to the unsuspecting eyes, the extended leg of your furniture. No longer the signed first edition Pablo Neruda work on your bookshelf.
Let me be the unfinished letter to your younger self, its existence forgotten the same way you forget about the smell of your mother's shampoo. No longer the poems written on your personalised stationary.
Let me be the fallen leaves in your autumn, wholly different but predominantly similar to its counterparts. No longer the ever-so-lovely Camellias.
Let me be the uneventful days of your Winter, a dark bleak existenece that you had to go through. No longer your camping days during the Summer.

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