Poem #100

They say that every seven years the
human body completely changes its skin.
It’s a comfort to hear.
Maybe in 7 years my love for you
will go together with the body
you held in your hands for so long.

They also claim that every 7 years
our hair is completely different.
Even better to hear.
In 7 years I won’t have the same hair
you smelled so passionately, the same
hair you played with every night
before going to sleep.

When will someone state that
every seven years we get brand new
feelings so I could have hope this
mess you left inside of me will heal or disappear.

11 replies on “Poem #100”

The seven year ever-changing morphing of a new self. But how selfishly sad I’m at this moment, yes I’m nearly making this all about me. Having read that the Luna I now read and know- will vanish from me in six years. I’m almost too parched for words. I’ve often wrote how a lifetime can be lived in mere moments, but now- I’m not so sure, knowing an expiration date of sorts. No wonder my thirst grows more intense with each passing moment. Will the heavens grace me with a new quenching flavor, a new improved literary Luna to… degust? : )

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