forgetting love

…

I am not afraid of loving, I am afraid of forgetting I loved

and so I leave my naked body to the evenings, to the

breeze of a September night not too far away from winter

leave my kisses to the yellow and red butterflies

to allow them to fly in my absence

leave my passionate poems to the rivers

so that they could recite them to passers-by

leave  my scent to old lovers

leave my fantasies to those I saw once

leave my secrets in between the pages of books

leave the pavilions of laughter

and weeping pavilions side by side

leave all the blooming trees to my dreams

so that they can remember that happiness

is in the legs of nature, that silence can be as painful

as love, that love smiles but is never satisfied,

is happy but never for too long, like the stranger

in your bed who speaks to you as if she knew you, loved you

knowing she will never see you

and who are we after lovemaking, after every lover?

Are we still afraid of what love might mean to us?

I speak of we for those who feel the way I do

I do believe I must leave everything of me to someone, to someplace

so that they could remember to me

…