The Pages of Forgotten Memories
the scar remains, yet it gets smaller and smaller
every time I look in my bedroom mirror.
I see that I can finally put on my dad's pj shirt
from the store nobody knows
without it looking like a dress. it has been a couple of years
since I last wrestled my older brother on the salted pretzel
and Breyer's chocolate ice cream covered couch.
today, i sit on a baby blue piece of furniture
that no longer makes the room smells like comfort,
but, of the itchy wool blankets
my dad bought 3 weeks ago that stick to my leggings.
ever since Netflix became popular,
I began to like cable tv more and more. don't ask why.
all I'll say is Olivia Benson no longer has the same spunk
as she did in the 2000s. i miss Elliot stabler.
i only remember random moments.
considering every time my mom asks if I had a good childhood,
my mind goes blank.
it's as if I erased everything in my brain's memoir
except for the 5th sentence on the 96th page.
i like that sentence though.
it's the one about the first time I made my dad mad
by dropping chocolate ice cream on the couch.
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