i search for memories buried under
miles of debris and find
that i remember i was happy once.
i scour my memories so hard until i can
no longer tell if my hands are bleeding
blood or rust.
this is where i realize that i do not
remember what happiness feels like.
is it more depressing to have never
been happy,
or to know you were happy once
without knowing
what it meant
what it was
what it felt like
that you'd lose it . . .