No. 119

May 5, 2026·18 lines·1 min read

I forgot to close your eyes

You loved 10, 20, or 40 years ago—

Close your eyes, and listen to the songs You loved 10, 20, or 40 years ago— or maybe in a past life. Touch their timeless echoes in your memories, like the primary-colored blocks in your hands when you were six years old and you watched Him cross the street. So many stories below, he was as tiny as your hombrecitos. You'll need to cross that taut tragic tightrope more than once. But close your eyes long enough to see the melodies and words dance like wet paintbrushes across the dark. Revisit, rewind, rewind. Why can't I rewind and stop looking Off the concrete terrace? I forgot to close your eyes.

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A quieter way to stay close to the work. One poem at a time.

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Part of a living collection since September 2024.

No. 119

18 lines · 1 min read

123 total entries and still expanding.

A way further in

Not the final meaning. Just a closer read, a better question, and a few nearby poems worth opening next.

LoveMemoryBody

A good place to begin when you want language that can soothe without lying.

Stay in the archive a little longer.

If this one stayed with you, keep it. Then either leave a note, keep moving through the archive, or open a random poem.

Notes for Collection No. 119

A guestbook for the poem itself. Leave a response, an image prompt, or an image link if it belongs in the same room.

Close your eyes, and listen to the songs

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The reading room

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