Litnet

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Lament

If I be touched, 
it’s not to be caressed, 
for the flesh 
which covers me, 
is but flaccid 
and a thin covering 
of my skeletal Self; 
yet, in my brain 
resides another I: 
the beauteous lineaments, 
of a long forgotten me, 
whom no one knows now 
and no one will believe, 
as even I, in the mirror, 
cannot find a trace 
of him to see.