Monday, March 11, 2013

Selective memory


A proof of a past without me. Past loves that filled those places that I lay my tired head upon. I can do without them. Lay not that burden of the knowledge that I caused deep welts to trail her heart. Spare me from seeing that pain, writ legible and clear in old photographs, when we didn't exist in each other's universe. Don't give me the task of having to forget something I cannot remember.  I want none of the pieces of that broken smile - I find shards of a past I'm not part of, in my pockets. Who put them there? I find them all the time, piercing and cutting and spitefully slicing my fingers, as I fumble for a validation of you and me. I don't want to have to trace those lines, like clues to how much they might have suffered. Pictures of events that have been, charting a clear map of their suffering. The darkness that shadows their eyes, as they kept awake during those wakes for a dying love. I don't want to know. Give me none of that -  their nightmares  haunt me and keep me awake at night.  Don't make me have to retrace their path of thorns - I don't want to be reminded of their difficult journey as I covered the distance between you and me. Cause then, I'm reminded of all that I went through, to get to you. 
And I'd rather forget. 

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