In the quiet spaces between breaths, I wonder if time remembers the things I’ve forgotten. Maybe it can picture all the wildflowers I walked past the sand castles I built at the beach all the sunsets I begged to behold for forever and then couldn’t envision a week later anymore maybe it listens to the words of my mother, humming her lullabies when I was too scared to sleep maybe it knows that it holds something of mine but keeps it from me But it might dream of forgetting cursed to hold all the memories, hopeless to break free