Forgetful

I don't want to be forgotten.

Please tell me why
my face is so difficult to look at.
Is it because you can see
behind the façade of reveries?
Reveries so differently
defined by my lack of time
spent in your hands.
But when your hands
are cascading down
another instrument’s strings,
I can’t compete
with the fervor of another’s
delightful melodies.
So think long and hard
about the contours
and shadows along my face
that dance along mine and yours,
and neglect my lashes lashing
your soul in judgment of the race
to forget closed doors
closing at an ungrateful pace
along my forgotten face.

The End

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