You like the memory of me; the fragrance of my essence still freshly etched in the nasal passages of your mind. My thighs were half this size, my breasts sat ripe on my bark. My parts were tucked and strengthened, without blemishes and wrinkles.
Though I have aged in places, you can remove your mirrors and replace your today with permanent pictures of what I should feel like. Do vaginas change? Guess it depends on whether penises do the same.
As we undress we close our eyes to remind ourselves of our favorite time, staring deeply into eyes that become windows to the desires we cannot express. We have run out of words, we have out-witted and outspoken our selves. Our verbs are played out and the only way to avoid redundancy is to reinvent ourselves.
Love is the action that remains a stable command; a triumphant charge to live within each other, but the relationship, the bodies, our mind, will and emotions must evolve.
I have met ex-lovers who still wish to marry the me that they loved at a certain age, in a certain season. They have failed to grow and are left behind, unappreciative of their own scars and blemishes, uninterested in living a life to be despised.
And some look at me with blissfully lit eyes, sharing moments that they cherish.
The me that lies in your memory, is just a memory. Hope brought you back to this space, but love must be reinvented and established today. For I have taken steps to become my best me, and what a compliment that you loved the old me!
Come along my friend, you decide maybe my memory is just for you to memorize. Ignoring “what if” thoughts, not contemplating in the now, the grace has lifted and only those who love me right now, can see these scars, and massage them out of my skin, to love me yet again.