Had I Known

Dark
against the white
of her skin.
Fraying and flawed,
scarred by a world
marching on
without her.

I remember love.
Love doesn't remember
me.

Hanging up the phone,
closing the door,
packing and leaving
while I slept.

Whatever I did
mercifully unclear.
Funny what I
hold on to;
what she throws away.

Wishing I'd taken the camera
and left the photographs.
Not innocent,
god knows
but not unfeeling, either.

Closing my eyes
to remember
when love doesn't remember
me.