Memories are ruthless.

Old photographs drip, overfilled
with a nostalgic sense.

Bittersweet scents of herbs
punch my nose
as I remember...

The old pages of a book,
yellowing, curling up at the edges,
a messy note,
and I wither away between the lines.

Bullets hidden in picture frames,
batter my chest.

Knives concealed in music notes,
pierce my ears,
****** sounds, but not of screams.

Soft textures lay bare on the couch,
hands intertwined in them, not voluntarily;
muscle memory.

The taste fiery in my mouth,
make my eyes water,
Eating sweets made of leftover sorrow...









I spit it out.
But memories are irresistible.









Memories are ruthless.