Tuesday, January 3, 2012

the me not me

the me not me


if they cut off
a part of me
& serve it to me
on a silver platter
my pulse wouldn't waver—

not like remembering
the smell of your lips
after kissing,
the smoothness of your teeth
against my tongue,
the feel of your breathes
against mine,

though you know only
the me not me
& i am bound
by your love
to always be
the me not me:
someone i am not
except the one
you long for,

& i can be only
who you love
because being
the me truly me
i would sacrifice
your devotion
& lose memories
i have yet to know
like a cannibal feast
on a one-man island


i fantasize
about the women you're not—
dark women,
unlike your blonde
& standing underdressed
in the cold of a winter night,
nose & lips chilled
by the wind stirring
through a forest

i can see them clearly
in the bright moonlight,
& i want to feel
the cold nose against mine,
the cold lips against mine—
even the teeth
chattering slightly
& chilled as marble
around my tongue,
but they are not you

they are the you not you,
the you i'll never know,
the you i can never know
or feel or touch or taste—
cold & dark as stone,
distant as the damp, fallen leaves
on the floor of some forest
in the Alaskan tundra,
the place where i am not,
the place i'll never be

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