When you can think of them
as a meant-to-be part of your story
and not a what-if,
you’re healing.
Tag: memories
a person like you
I wonder if a person like you
exists out there, in the real world,
or if you live only
in my imagination.
soft, but ominous
You came back into my life
like an overnight snowfall,
one morning I woke up
and there you were:
soft, but ominous.
now, our reunion
Embrace the space
which has come between us,
growing wider and deeper each day
until now,
our reunion.
Tell me of you, and I’ll you of me,
learning of new and remembering of old
until the space disappears.
Back to the way we were,
two peas back into our pod.
I was lost,
tangled in the seaweed of the deep, dark waters,
praying for a chance
to gasp in oxygen until my lungs burst,
yearning for someone to extend a hand,
until today.
My memory is a peculiar thing
My memory is a peculiar thing
taunting me with the past,
focusing on loss, heartbreak and anguish
than those moments of acceptance and joy
in stark contrast.
The more I remember, the less I remember.
Memory skews the reality of what
once was, of truth.
It must view this as a game,
how far can we deviate from reality
and still make her believe,
and build her future based on these?
When memories are distorted into a
new, thwarted figure
what do I have left?
What can I believe in? Lean on?
The more I remember, the less I want to
remember.
Dawning Words 