As we are folded into history,

our sins ironed smooth,

our hungers bleached away…

As we slip into the

sweet silence, covered by layers and

layers of new lovers, new

betrayals, new hurts,

new agony that thinks it cuts

deeper than ours, but it

doesn’t – we are merely forgotten,

muffled, buried…

As we fall into obscurity

there is one place where you

are never forgiven, never

absolved, and that is right here

in the poetry I leave behind.

by Cher Bibler