for Lexi's contest. To know someone's heart by heart is sometimes, well...read on |
By heart What good does it do to know your face by heart, to know the curve of your hip and the scent of your skin and the lilt of your voice by heart? What good is there in memory when it serves only to torment this tortured soul who can do nothing but recall-- can do nothing much at all-- but long for that which now exists only in my dreams? And only in every breath I take and every word I speak? And only in every thought I have day in day out? I know my own routine as well as I know your smile by heart: Get up, make the bed, hope to die. By heart I know the sensation of our interlocking fingers. By heart I know which ear you tucked your hair behind By heart I know which laugh was polite and which truly touched your spirit. By heart I know your body every inch, every curve and response. I know which drawer contains your brushes and which your cotton swabs. I know by heart your walking gait and the arrangement of your shoes. I know by heart all there is to know. And yet, I’ll never again know you. What good is there in knowing someone’s heart by heart when all it does when they are gone is make you hope that yours soon stops? |