Prachi Gogte - not-love

its a not-night again
the electric sky littered with what are not stars
but salt of the marrow
the marrow which holds not blood
memories...
alchemy has turned glass to mirror
and a not-love stares back at me...

pieces of the past come together to make her
and all she wanted to feel
not me...
and she remembers him...
and what was not touch
more...
what was not decent..
not at all..
what was not patient
restless as a nightmare...
but its the nightmares we remember not-dreams...

and its him she remembers..
not-you...

Prachi Gogte

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-love-11/