The past is merely:
Pieces of life engraved in memory
Bundled with mental imagery
Nobody remembers
How it was like, exactly
But I think...
I think I was happy...
We, we were happy
It must have been!
Who am I supposed to be?


What was yours?
Your former life stuffed into a box-
Just to decay?
An afternoon with your dad?
A face of a late friend maybe?
Or a greener meadow
Veiled with snowdrops and daisies?
No more, the details
But the frame persists
The unreachable past!
Wouldn't say was a lot...
Then the time passed.
Now it's a museum of rot