Love’s Hangover
I am the memory
of a passionate
night
remembered
passionlessly
I am the nightmare
you see in your
sleep—
amorphous,
hovering
I am the shadow
that lingers
in the forgotten
corner
of your mind
I am the pieces of
the puzzle
that don’t fit in
the frame;
the ones you toss
hopelessly aside
I am the cracked
piece of china—
you know the one—
mended with super
glue
and usually not
used
I am the monument
to a horrific,
historical event—
frequently talked
about
but hardly ever
visited
Yet I am all that’s
left of us
and soon I will not
even be—
Drunk as I am with
the power
of my own
forgetting.
Deborah Lilton
Memphis, TN