Hickey

This morning, as I stood before the mirror,
I found new streaks on my body,
Semilunar temporary tattoos,
That have crept up overnight-

You left remembrance on my breasts
With gentle carresses of your teeth,
Sinking softly into my flesh.
I like to think of them as
One last valiant attempt, to hold on,
To these last pigmented bits of togetherness
When there’s no way that you, can, not, go.

But efforts, although valiant, can still be futile
And it’s just skin, flail with vanity, and it’ll forget.
The alive reds will soon turn,
First livid blue, then cold black, dull green,
And then, pale into Yellow.
An entire palette, and yet too insipid,
To match the entire myriad of colours,
That you run through my mind.

The entire myriad, too much for my mind,
Now leaching onto my skin, for a few brief days-
Like dark, forgotten water trails,
Through the faults of cracking limestone caves.
Iridescent, yet fleeting, memoirs, of secret seasons of love,
Bursting out, from the weakest parts of me,
Where my mortal body, cannot contain them.

But it’s just skin, it’ll soon forget.
The seasons will change soon too,
The sky outside our windows, sooner.
But the hickeys on my soul,
Will have your touch etched into them
Neither superficial, nor gentle.
Deeper.
Here, to last seasons,
Here, to stay longer.

All around me now, are dry autumn breezes,
Colours of Fall, on my body that only knew summers
And once in a while, downpours, untimely rains.
Marks on my body fade, not used to feeling this way
And I realise-
It’s not only the seasons, the bruises-
That change, that leave,
When I want them to stay.

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