Unraveled Mind of a Film Maker

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the

perfumes of spring.

   I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;

how did your lips feel on mine?

   Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks, 

the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.

   I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten 

your eyes.

   Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of

you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will

do me irreparable harm.

   Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.

   I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every

window.

   Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because

of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting

stars, falling objects.

I don’t remember, any more, 
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine, 
Caressed them, 
Memorized the length of your fingers, 
The depth of your calluses. 

I don’t remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don’t remember, any more, 
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm, 
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together. 

I don’t remember, any more, 
The sound of your voice, calling 
My name as though
It were a song 
Within itself, a precious treasure 
You valued with all your being. 

And I don’t remember, any more, 
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips, 
Only…
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me, 

“I love you.”

(Source: rainb0w-kissesxo)

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