After Years

What made you send that message, Remember me? Of course. You returned a look. Your eyes grazed at me. A pause. Exhale so powerful I don't know when we turned to jokes or played or whatever we did to exchange ideas, to start our spree of books,books,books 'among other things". See? I recall your polite phrase, that degree without study. We graduated, knew what to do in a darkened room. Combustion of skin. The call of the womb. Any clue at all for consumption and exhaustion. Your message before me, my body sings the reply, One never forget such wonderful, loving things.

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
Me
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