moonangel poetry Poet Free verse

The Memory of Your Skin

Memory has never been my strength.
In the afternoon, I couldn't remember what I had for breakfast.
At school, I couldn’t remember the equations we studied in Math.
Yet I remembered you.
Not your voice whispering the words I yearned to hear my whole life.
Not the way your fingertips traced my cheekbones as if it held the answers to the universe.
I remembered your eyes.
That wide-eyed look you gave me the first night we said goodbye.
The same wide-eyed look you gave me when that goodbye became our last.
The way your lashes brushed your eyelids, just how your stubble would brush my chin.
The way your lips parted, but nothing came out. As if no words had the strength to hold the weight of what you so desperately wanted to say.
It had been days, weeks, months since you. Since us.
I pray to forget. I pray for mercy. For this hollow ache to vanish like you did; simple yet inevitable. 
And still, everywhere I go, you haunt me.
A shadow in the alleys, a voice in the distance, a ghost in my head.
I turn around dreading to see your face, but I still turn.
Even if it reminds me of the tears, I shed too easy, the food I overconsumed in hopes of comfort, yet nothing comforted me quite like you.
Nothing comforted me like threading my fingers through yours and the world would go quiet again.
Nothing comforted me like your lips on mine, inhaling me like oxygen you were deprived of for too long.
And I hoped you would look at me like you did that night.
When your pupils were dilated, and you looked at me like I hung the moon.
And that made me smile, because you would be my star.
Forever orbiting, but never within my reach.

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