Things Better Forgotten


I tried, I really did,
to not turn you into poetry
but alas, here am I;

inking your skin onto the lifeless page
filling text line after text line
with whatʻs left of your essence on my lips

the hopeful scent of spring
the quiet droplets refracting the ethereal sun
the soft song of the wind racing down the valley

all these things I tried to forget
like discarded bottle caps on beaten bike paths
or like crushed daisies in an empty meadow
but alas, here am I;

grafting onto broken audio clips your laughter
replaying in my mind, madly
like a mourning radio
like a broken siren song
frozen in time.

I tried, I really did
to cradle you in my shaking hands
but even the crackling firework
that subjugates the starry sky
still fades to black.

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