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lyra-brownPoems
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.
0
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
nothing
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.
lyra-brown
Written by
lyra-brown
Canadian
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
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