Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Market price for fresh faces

Years from now I suspect people to remember me but only vaguely. Like there’s something transitory about me. Memories are like out of focus photos, and sounds are like deteriorating cassettes. Can you remember the gentle weight of my body against yours, or those simple words that caused your flesh to tighten? Probably not.

I assume the same is true for other people, so at any moment it’s as good as it gets. Like there is always diminishing returns on any one memory. I love you today, but less tomorrow, and even less the day after that. That kiss, that move, that thought, simply vanishes in time. Our cells repel each other; your vision is literally burned into my mind as synapses do their thing.

If only this body didn’t fail me. If only….


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