I am that word
stuck in the back of your mind,
the one you need, but can’t revive
in that crucial moment
when telling your story.
The one you ask your friends,
What’s that word again?
I know I will surface eventually,
and you will spit me out triumphantly
like a stone spews
from the pocket of a slingshot
aimed at every listener you’re with.
As you remember my place in your story,
you smile with satisfaction,
because you need that word.
And wistfully, I will wait
to be the word you form
like that round softened stone,
because you, sweetheart,
are the only love I have ever known.

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