i tread on spikes
whenever you're near.
the memories of you and me
i don't care to remember.
if i were honest
i would tell you:
my memories of
us
makes me cringe.
to put it out of my mind
i imagine the memory of you in a box
and then light it up.
i imagine shooting you to outer space
never to be seen again.
but they come back.
i'm treading on spikes.
stop
plaguing me.
please.
i'm sorry.