you ask me what i remember from the time those photographs
were taken and i will tell you:
nothing.

i do not remember the bittersweet wounds
i carved into so-called flesh, no
i do not recall the sleepless nights spent
wailing for mother to come back with arms
outstretched apologies rolling off the tongue, no
i do not remember the bones that ached
the swollen jaws
the inhale-exhale-inhale-hoping it would be
my last, no
i do not recall the fleeting lovers, the restlessness disguised as
wanderlust, no
i do not remember bonding with strangers in our
ignorant comas  nor do i recall
telling you you mattered to me
when you so clearly did not, no
i do not recall the lagging thud-thud of my
failing freight train heartbeat
i do not recall the passing days that handcuffed me to the
pride of being functional
i do not recall the futile retracing of my
weary footsteps
nor the devastating  discovery of the melted snow
i do not remember the betrayal nor the heartbreak
that trampled over me when you left
nor do i recall telling you i was sorry
when i so clearly was not.

you ask me what i remember from the time those photographs
were taken and i will tell you:
i was empty.
i remember nothing.