Oblivion

I'm here
and you are looking at me
and I at you
and I am tugging at the string that I had
so tightly tied around your finger
hoping you won't forget
and I'm thinking about
my body burning
every freckle, place that you touched or held
every inch of skin and limb and crinkle that holds memories of a smile
burned
tossed among the wind
in a bohemian-like dance
that insists I be tossed like bird food among the places that I loved
when I only ever really loved you
but I suppose being worm food isn't much better
at the hands of grave diggers too
So I'm here looking at you
Hoping you'd give a penny for these thoughts
because they feel worth a million
since they are like dreams
that when you wake up you pine to remember but they are already gone
perhaps they are truly nothing but you still want to know
even go mad to hear what unconsciousness tasted like
the high of genius you get from snorting unreality like a drug
Just tell me, was I beautiful in the dream?
Was I smart or cunning?
am I secretly more than I ever hoped?
No?
Just worm food
pining to be remembered.

-anna sluder

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