Conjure

There are moments
seldom and silent and ever lacking reason
Where I summon you
or maybe I should say conjure
and instead I find a feeling where your face should be
struck by the ways a memory of you
is really a memory of everybody else
a memory of the alchemy of flat palms against the damp grass
and the sharpness of whispers
the ways your fingernails traced the cut
a memory of the way our chestnut curtains met, netting lash and lip
and all those eyes, always ready to consume
a memory of all the words you said, calculated
instead of true
designed instead of anything at all.
I buckle under the weight of where your memory should stand, atop me.
I splinter at the disconnect.
And at the way a memory of you exists
only in the things I did not see at the moment it was made.
In this way, you never leave me.
In this way, I am reminded
of the ways pretty girls like to chip away
at whatever belongs to the others.

Reviews

[kaycee]

i love "calculated
instead of true,
designed instead of anything at all."

this is great...i feel like it applies to me too.

i don't know if this is what you intended, but the beginning starts with this one person, but the final image is of these "pretty girls" so it kind of changes the tone of it for me. but, like i said, perhaps that's how you wanted it to be.

i really like this.