FURRY CHROMOSOME

If only I could
I'd write you
In a couple of lines,
And enclose you in a book,
Like a forgotten rose
That mustn't be touched,
For it shall wither
Upon contact.

Among half a million
Possibilities and might-be's
You and I are only
But a ghost in the arms
Of memory.
So when one day
I get back
Having strengthened myself
To open that old book
Inside which we lie
As a decayed masterpiece,
As a dismayed catastrophe
Dying and resorting to immortality;
A faint fragrance will remain
As our only memory.

I must also demystify
How you need not oblige
Anyone
Even yourself–
For this is a wasted affair,
I'm quite clearly aware.
There are far more
Intriguing fixations out there.
Relax, you furry chromosome
You do not have to care.

Little pleasance is found
In lifeless romance, I admit.
But, however
I believe that a scent
Will bind you back
May be just to a vantage point
From where you could
Eye my expressions
As I open the page
That we were on
A long, long time ago.

-K.G.