you've gone now,
given up on the idea
of who we were to be together-
I heard you are soon to wed, your love:
a woman with culture and age-
someone, so unlike myself, she won't dissolve
beneath the coill of your tongue-
my skin, the page
you'd write your poems on-
you don't remember,
the morning after-
forgetmenots and mints,
you left fever blisters in your stead.
Amberlee Carter
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fever-blister/
