Thursday, May 1, 2008

unmarked

I refuse to make a mark on people's lives, sometimes
maybe i know when it will be unwanted in the end
some random pseudo-sincere scribble
on the precious pages on someone's planner
five years later,
they'll happen on my awkwardly-phrased words
and wonder, "who was this again?"

i'd rather not be remembered at all
than be a scratchy memory to someone
whom i hoped would remember

i have learned that sometimes
we are meant to be fleeting
mere acquiantances to someone
whose life we made a bit more interesting
for a month or so
a couple of weeks, maybe
and that's it.

no bottled memories
no marked beginnings, therefore
no marked endings
not lasting
but not unreal

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