“sliding down your memory”


Lyubomir Levchev
You’re undressing as though for the doctor.

The thought shatters in my soul.
And suddenly
everything becomes fragile.
The little vase becomes a test tube.
The flower, a strange bacterium.
And you burst out laughing:
“Come on now,
ask me how I feel.
What’s ailing me.
Where I hurt…
Ask anything you like!
Just don’t pretend…”

I bend down mechanically.
I say.

The air draws you deeply into itself.
And you vanish.
The bed retains your warmth –
torn garment of the fugitive.
But you’ve wrenched yourself out.
For good.
Perhaps you’re already sliding down
your memory.

You’re crying.
The zipper of your skirt is broken.
And your voice is shattered.
I hear:

“Farewell, my love!
You I once longed for, farewell!
I wish you all the best –
and part of my pain.”

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