My memories of you
of us
of our life

Is like a cancer

My memories are me
parts of me

That grow
destroy
consume

the rest of me.

These memories
these tumors

start in the middle of my own memories
my own happiness
my own strength

and one small connection
synapse

sends the memories
the cells

rushing forward.

And when I think I might be able to stop them
fight them
forget them

it is too late, and my body has already been taken.

And thus, my memories, which are made of me,
destroy the rest of me, *which is also made of me.