Poetry

The Way I Want to Be Remembered – Iman Messado

All I’ve ever wanted to be was
the warmth of my favorite plush animal.
I’ve never said a word about
the smell of a new pair of shoes.
I want to be
the sunlight caught in my niece’s eyelashes,
the ink on a college acceptance letter,
the wrapper of your last tampon.
Who ever said I thought about
the tag of a new cardigan?
If you talk to me about the
way that my grandmother’s curtains
do the jitterbug when the summer breeze arrives;
about the hot peach tea that burned by 11 year old tongue,
then we might be on the same page.
But don’t you dare mention the lingering scent
of some $90 perfume on my wrist.

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