The Imperfect Erasure

Despite our longing
For clarity,

For the way ahead,

For each of us,

Memories have
A perfect pureness,
To disrupt
And stampede
Our extended grasp,

For surety
And closure.

Perhaps that’s why my mind
Continues to torment me,

Foisting to the fore

Whispers of you,

And the taste of your lips
On mine.

These same memories,

Thwarting my halting attempt,

To move on,

And staunch the seepage
From my heart,

Torn by your absence.

So…

I’m left only to hold the shards

Of what could have been,

And forever having to accept

An imperfect
Erasure of my dream.

And an imperfect
Erasure of illimitable wanting…

And needing…

Of you.

 

 

© 2018 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

12 thoughts on “The Imperfect Erasure

  1. Wow, Bill, every word spoke intimately with me. I wish I had written this. But I would never have found those words. You know, although people say suffering is the only means we have to put ourselves in touch with the entire human condition, it can become an unnecessary vocation.

    Liked by 2 people

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