eraser

they are memories now

every one from that winter,
every one etched
and listless beneath
my flesh, every one
carved by your indifference

winters are the
hardest to remember
in the cold that once there
was springtime; once
there were things
resembling beauty,
like i used to be

so many things that
used to be

spitfire and
broken teeth, crags
in a cliffline jaw, the
knuckle marks down your back

how long before we
can forget the things that
have melded into our
flesh and bone?

before time unmakes the things
that made us who we are?