Erased
I am erasing you.
I am tearing down the water-damaged wallpaper
and recarpeting the floors.
What a gorgeous day, isn’t it?
The world beyond mine seem so pure and untainted
as if oblivious of the volcanic frustrations and turmoil that exists.
If emotions weren’t so abstract and intangible,
If my emotions weren’t contained and were released from its jar
Rain and thunder and hail would flood from the neck of its vessel.
But that is prohibited.
I am tearing down the picture frames—the only windows to the past.
I am erasing you.
Everything that shared a moment with you will be gone.
Everything that was caught in your eyes or felt the touch of your skin
will be gone.
October 16, 2004
