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Find Myself

I had my own ring
but on days I’d forget to wear it.
You had your own vows
but your memory seemed to fail you.
You were foreign to me:
a frightening foreign,
an exciting foreign.
Do I know your name?
Do I care?
Let me just take off my ring,
I thought,
and put it behind
the frame on the dresser
where I cannot see it
tonight.
I was only resigned to the thought:
if I forgot myself with you,
if I was lost with you,
I would only remember again
and soon find myself.


Copyright Janet Kuypers.
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