can't I reach inside myself and offer you my lungs?
such cruel and beautiful things they are;
like stars, like daggers, like love; an offering
to a forgotten god or a memorable man, or both —
would you love me? no, that is not the
question I meant to ask. would you leave me?
would you remember me? please,
wait a second so that I can write that down. I hope that I
should always have something to remember you by.
what strange magnets are human beings!
equal and opposite forces both, and neither besides.
neither would you love me nor would you leave me
is the question at all, is it? how would you
remember me? how would you love me without
ever knowing it? what pieces of me remain?
an offering to a god or a man is easily forgotten
but the pieces always remain. I care not that you
think of me still; I care more that I am with you still.
