A Fading Memory Beneath Forgetful Sod
Look me up at 2: 00AM
When the last lonely bar has closed
And you’re drunk with sadness
And not with booze;
Look me up with your running panty hose
And your smoky dress;
Look me up with your tearful eyes
And your weary voice;
Look me up with your abandoned children
Dangling from your heart
Like a nearly broken necklace;
Look me up like a lost sinner
With unutterable crimes to confess
To her fallible priest and fragile God;
Look me up, dear angel,
Before you’re gone forever,
A fading memory beneath forgetful sod.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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