when i leave (i know...)

you'll never remember me (except) in
mirrors and shades,
eyes you've scarred that i reached to grasp, the
last fleeting image of the light reflecting
their madness,
only to trace the outline of an impression
in a spotless plain.

and you've never heard anything i've ever told you--
there, tucked into the serpentine curl of your ear, i'm
littered in
the wrinkled songs of the drunk
and quiet, gently brushed and
trickled past breezy anecdotes and
softly spoken
words of encouragement
that always seemed to slide right down your hair
past your shoulders and disappear.

i'll never know
the strength you'd have found to be
the center of my life. the sweetness
you'd have shown to my smiles and apologies,
and the joy that would have flooded my throat and eyes
if we could have wrapped ourselves around
ourselves
and let each other go.