Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Oldies I: Portable You


Portable You
July, 2006

I’m packing parts of life away,
Taking them along. My whirling world,
My searching soul, you and your eyelashes.
That’s what I’m taking.

I memorized your touch and smile.
I drank it in like wine.
The sweetness of your smell
I disassembled
like a desk.
The letters, the comfort
I crumpled
And tucked in the corner
of my trunk, like a soft,
favorite, worn shirt.
The words you said,
the whispery way in which you said them,
I twined together, to be tasted
two by two or five by three.
No room for jackets, Browning, Bronte, or
my favorite sandals.
I’ve kept my keepsakes for myself,
My wishes for my wants.
Farewell and fast but not forever.
I didn’t plan on this,
This you.
Not losing love but leaving.
Didn’t count on this good-bye.
I’ll hold the hugs within my heart
Carry kisses in my case.
You’ll follow me, I’m saving you,
I need you or I’ll break.

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