the bridge we had built stood wooly on its frame,
despite our best efforts, it collapsed
under the weight of darkness
and it never stood again

a few years later
new houses appeared
at the edge of the river
nobody there to remember
the other side of it

sometimes,
i hate the world
for still going on,
like it has
completely forgotten
about what happened to us.


Like it has
completely forgotten  
about people like us.

I scowl at you
Nibbling tomorrow’s mistakes
You catch me watching, eyes accused
But I know you’re ready to paint the whole night blue
Slurring apologies and blurring memories
You stumble out promises and throw up on them
You cry into the night and in the morning it’s not yours
It’s my problem

I call in defence for myself
I can’t help
I wipe away your essence
Even the shards I hold pleasant
I tear and delete
Angry at how  
I need more than myself now
To feel complete

Falling into pages of how I felt
But I don’t know how I feel
I don’t know what was real
It’s scariest to focus on further
When all you did was forget

Pitied partings and ***, held in regret
My open heart left no respect

There are things we spend years forgetting,
But with just a tiny wave of hope all that forgetting is washed ashore.

I took the words that dove from your lips
And let them drown inside me
Hoping that they would sink forever
Suffocating your washed up memory

Your name on the tip of my tongue
Your voice at the edge of my brain
Like jumping off a cliff to end it all
Forgetting you is hard to explain

coming back to you like the rain revisits time and time again
washing over your valleys and mountaintops

little by little your layers disappear
you are left a clean surface
your forgotten shimmering through

and every layer you’ve ever had is shed, a second skin
everything you’ve ever feared spills out from your ears
and every summit you’ve climbed peeks out at your belly
every wound you’ve suffered shimmers from underneath the surface
oceans of tears like puddles filling up your collarbones to the brim

you’re a landscape full of forgotten things

Daylights were so much
than expensive goldbars
with your arms securing my chest
in the twenty-fifth of May
covered with comfy bedsheets
and you as my everyday scenery,
my healthy breakfast,
my vitamin A.

But nightfalls were so much
unaware than missed shooting stars
in clouded firmament
with your eyes refused to stay
growing cherry blossoms
as I hope that your feet
became regretful
for stepping to the nothingness
to the process of forgeting
until to the complete unknown

— marion.