The Memories They Forget You

Weird Poetry

She stormed down the dusk-lit corridor

In the dead centre of my chest,

Tearing down all of the film posters from the walls,

The journals and sketchbooks lining the shelves,

The framed photos,

The memorabilia,

Then incinerated it all at my feet,

Leaving nothing

But a blistering ache on my charred soles

And an infinite number of heart-sized holes

Along the insides of my caged arteries.

She told me not to hold onto the memories

Because they will eventually forget me.

It is better to get it over with yourself,

She said.

And quickly.




I wrote this in fits and starts and while drifting off to sleep….

3 thoughts on “The Memories They Forget You

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