Musings (In Fear)

In the hours faded from
your touch, the thoughts
creep back in, and I am
left to ignore the marks
of burnt skin from the
touch you once lovingly
gave another, even with
my name set in flames
across your heart; I fear
the reprisal and a replay
once more, where time
does not sing and ashes
are left behind to repair
strained memories, as
though even fear cannot
burn away the imprints
of another and where my
touch cannot replace them.

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