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[personal profile] adoptedwriter
 Intaglio

 

She lives with us in memory and will forever.

 

There’s just one problem.

I don’t remember her.

I never will.

Visiting the grave.

I can’t cry for her.

I stare at the stone.

Emptiness.

 

It happened to other people.

It was real-not-real.

She did and did not exist.

She knew me but she didn’t know me.

I knew her but I never knew her.

Mythical and magical

Silence

 

Is she really down in there?

Where did she actually go?

Summer sun and freshly mown grass;

This is her scent. 

She has a birth date and an end of life date. 

She was loved and is missed by many.

Including me.

 

She lives with us in memory and will forever.

 

But I can’t remember her. 

 

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