http://writingisart2.deviantart.com/art/Memory-98495814
We Settle into Ourselves,
like grains of sand into the
stomach of the hourglass.
The days wash over us,
as tsunamis in the dead of winter.
So quick, and yet so slow.
We change pace,
syncopate-
drill tired feet onto firm trodden pebble ground.
Pacing, glaring, swearing.
I wait
for the glass to fill
-and spill.
As if it should take a million years
to realize who we are.
And yet it is so easy
to Settle into you.
Pulse rate mistake,
the dredges of my mind
spill out into
your lap.
My memory's contents scatter
like strings of Swarovski crystals
in the palms of our open hands.
Curse of Mankind.
We follow paths,
Chase dreams,
Fabricate lies.
Who stole
you from
yourself?
I remembered it
in the Depths of a lost December.
It called me back to the lines
scrawled across our pages,
mingled with denial and disguise.
It has been saved and rewritten.
But reviewed less often,
buried in the banks of our river.
I broke the replay buttons.
Found and forced-quit stat.
Sat atop the pile of tattered belongings
and secretly, sinfully, cried.
Such a Task. I found
Daunting.
Such choices I find
in the steel trap
of my mind.
I've kissed Them, tried to embrace Them. Denied Them, scattered Them, charred Them in my own pyromanic way. I dance in the flowing tide, and know They are watching me from backs of eroding dunes. Patiently Impatient, They will stick like bagolie, They will suck like leeches, never satisfied. And so THEY are Mine. I must come to terms with Them. Hold long-drawn conversations, even argue, yet They rarely truthfully reply.
What are we forgetting to remember. What are we trying to forget to remember.
They are Mine. And I Love Them. But I scatter Them like ashes, afraid to see the black upon my hands.
