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Nothing more than an era
a few inconsequential years
chalked up to immaturity
and glaring oversight.

your memories of me
your promises and
the consequences
of this, my departure
meaning little more
than pouring the dregs from
your glass.

You sold the rings
the mark still burns on my finger
where your band sat for over a year
my flesh lovingly molded around it
and still unwilling to believe
I don't wear it anymore.

Yet you were able to coolly hand them
over the glass counter, letting them fall
from your open hand to a cold fist,
calculating the bargain
perhaps just the pleasure
of expunging my memory
was enough.

I remember the day you proposed to me
how you knelt and the background faded
melting away like chalk in the rain
and as you candidly offered up
your love in the form of white gold and diamonds
how I was sure, in that moment
that this was the truest thing in my life.

I still wear your brand
bitterly I cried when I read it
that you had so easily stricken me from your life
when even my own body betrays the memories of you.

I've heard about her too.
The short brunette, your mother loves her
you proudly attest that after dating for months
you still haven't slept with her.

You fucked me on the first date, did you tell her?
How your eager hands devoured my body
offered up like a sacrifice after begging you
begging you with innocent eyes,
not to hurt me.
Did you tell her how I wrapped my arms
around you and made you feel like a man?
I heard that girl still calls you 'she.'

How easily you have wiped me away
yet I can't believe that you've forgotten.
I can't believe you don't bare marks
some part of you
remembers me.

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July 2012
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