He took a look around my room
something
was declared to be very me.
Stumbled upon my cologne and quickly corrected
himself “No.
this is very you”.
The way he said it, I was already a memory
a fondness
standing right in front of him. Was I?
Deemed an inanimate object made me
small and lifeless
and round.
He put it down without even smelling it, as if he didn’t know
W H Y
he bothered picking it up in the first place.
I now live in his memory alone. Am I even flesh?
Some remote mausoleum in the corner of his mind
mere feet away from .
Malas traducciones 