An open letter (II)

I sit silently upon my bed,
my hands resting on my thighs,
caressing this dress you loved on me,
wondering if you still remember
my name.

I sit there until the sound of rain diminishes into nothingness,
until gray skies turn black
and the autumn wind slowly falls asleep.

I wonder if you remember
the way I danced upon my veranda,
careless –
for there was nothing to worry about;
I thought I had found love within your arms,
instead my arms were nothing to you,
but a port of desire.

I sit silently upon my bed,
my hands pressed tightly on my thighs.

There is nothing left to remember.

Jehona Thaqi©

One thought on “An open letter (II)

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