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I wonder about you.

I do not want you,

but I wonder what it would be like to.


I imagine grazing your shoulder with the tip of my nose

to smell your skin—

the smell beneath your perfume.

Why do you wear it?

I hate it. 


I wonder,

what does your father look like?

Does he smile often?

Does he have dark skin like you?

Are his hands rough?

Can they feel you any longer?

What was he like when he was young?

Did he find love at thirteen?

Did he adore her?

Or was it his best friend he loved?

Has your mother ever seen him cry?

I hope so.

Maybe you do not think of him often.

Do you remember his smell? 

Did he ever hold you—

even once?

Do you cling to that memory,

protecting it like a lion?

I bet you’d be a lion.

Maybe you never knew him. 

I wonder what that is like for you. 


I don’t even know you.

I’ve never seen you before

and may never again.

But for a split second,

I imagined who you were,

and what it would be like to love you.


(Image: Murad Osmann)

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