Forgetting Venus

Some nights I write solely to forget her,

to pour her essence into ink on paper,

and then scrunch them up and throw them away.

The memories of her cling.

They are like a spider's web on my skin.

As I write her away she materializes in the words,

hovering phantasmically,

an ephemeral presence seeming so eternal,

she still resembles the brightest star,

how does one forget the image of Venus?

She asks, "Is this really the end?"

I do not answer.

I must silence her with silence.

The memories of her are the heads of a hydra.

The memories of her are the ashes of a phoenix.

I write with increasing intensity,

because when I write I forget to blink,

and she exists in every moment my eyes close,

she has made my darkness her home.

She says, "I still love you."

I do not answer.

I fear I might utter the same words.

Somewhere she is smiling,

somewhere she is dancing,

somewhere her back is arching,

for another.

"But how can that be,"

asks my foolishly deceived mind,

"if I see her so clearly in front of me?"

The memories of her are shards of glass,

embedded in my heart.

She says, "We'll always be together.",

I reply, "You lied."

And with that she disappears as quickly as she came,

called on her bluff, so ends the poker game,

but she will return,

on another night just like this,

and I will then try and fail to forget Venus,

because stars take billions of years to die.

Reviews

[Glen Yumang Manese]

This just adds volume...each time for the reader...the pace and flow for which this takes you...there are great pitch lines in there...enough to carry you and then get at you --- at the same time...like the read and more over the entirety of this write...