I burned all my pictures of you,
Put them in the sink, added a few drops of lighter fluid,
Touched them with my Zippo, then washed the ashes down the drain.
But I still keep seeing your face.
And I washed every bit of clothing I own,
Three times, to get rid of the scent of your perfume,
But I still smell it everywhere I go.
I got rid of the Bob Marley CD we played the first time we made love;
I threw out the Escher print of the drawing hands, because you once
said you liked it.
I even sold the guitar I played when I sang you love songs;
I would have smashed it, but I needed the money.
And I tried to dissolve your memory in alcohol,
Figured if I killed enough brain cells, I'd forget.
But the neurons that held your image were too tough,
And all I got was a hangover.
Because the memory of you is superglued to my mind.