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Literature Text
Would you rather hold her close than remember when you held me in your arms;
Sweet touches and my fingers tracing maps across your spine?
Would you rather breath her in than remember how I smell;
Vanilla, sassafrass root, peppermint, and bubblegum?
Would you rather kiss her than to remember how I taste;
Strawberries, Monster, and spearmint; Sour gummy worms and Mountain Dew?
Would you rather remember her than remember us;
Late nights, shared friends, disc golf, and potato comas?
Would you rather hold her hand than to remember how my hand felt;
Scarred fingers, cool skin, and the callouses of a musician?
Would you rather look into her eyes than remember how mine looked;
Pale green, like a jade dragon or the overturned leaves in a mid-summer storm?
Would you rather hear her voice than to remember how I sounded;
Sad but strong, soft and lilting?
Would you rather look at her canvas than to remember how my skin looked;
Pale, riddled with scars, ridged and lined like the Earth?
Would you rather bury your face in her hair than to remember mine;
Shaggy, soft, and begging for fingers to be tangled in it?
Would you rather watch her walk away than to watch me walk;
Limping, swaggering, rolling like the deck of a ship on the high seas?
Would you rather hear her sing than to remember how I raised my voice;
Harmonizing, moving into the melodies that guide my sound?
Would you rather sleep beside her than to remember how it felt with me there;
Curling in on myself, twitching, murmering to myself, fighting my nightmare monsters?
But the main question I must ask is,
Would you rather not remember me?
Sweet touches and my fingers tracing maps across your spine?
Would you rather breath her in than remember how I smell;
Vanilla, sassafrass root, peppermint, and bubblegum?
Would you rather kiss her than to remember how I taste;
Strawberries, Monster, and spearmint; Sour gummy worms and Mountain Dew?
Would you rather remember her than remember us;
Late nights, shared friends, disc golf, and potato comas?
Would you rather hold her hand than to remember how my hand felt;
Scarred fingers, cool skin, and the callouses of a musician?
Would you rather look into her eyes than remember how mine looked;
Pale green, like a jade dragon or the overturned leaves in a mid-summer storm?
Would you rather hear her voice than to remember how I sounded;
Sad but strong, soft and lilting?
Would you rather look at her canvas than to remember how my skin looked;
Pale, riddled with scars, ridged and lined like the Earth?
Would you rather bury your face in her hair than to remember mine;
Shaggy, soft, and begging for fingers to be tangled in it?
Would you rather watch her walk away than to watch me walk;
Limping, swaggering, rolling like the deck of a ship on the high seas?
Would you rather hear her sing than to remember how I raised my voice;
Harmonizing, moving into the melodies that guide my sound?
Would you rather sleep beside her than to remember how it felt with me there;
Curling in on myself, twitching, murmering to myself, fighting my nightmare monsters?
But the main question I must ask is,
Would you rather not remember me?
More musings...
© 2013 - 2024 Laemiri
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