The broken promises

Pile up in the corner

Left behind

A feeling of guilt

Evaded

Because no one can remember

The oath once sworn

When lost to the power of time










The unfinished Ideas

Flowing freely like a river

Always starting

Quite plentiful

Until all that’s left

Is a trickle

For all things

Are forgotten with time




Words on a paper

Mark down the past

Yet it only takes

A single act

To go away forever

The shredded pieces

Fall before your eyes

Maybe one day

They say

You will find out why

The reason you are here

But that will have to wait for another time




When the act began

You found no way to stop

Backs turned

Eyes glared

Curses flew

And all towards you

Thrown to the side

They don’t remember you

Wishful thinking

That it was just at the wrong time










A word once spoken

A commitment lost

An excuse made

I was busy

It wasn’t my fault

Because no one can admit

That they forgot

That they never even cared

Knowing that one day you will forget

Because nothing escapes

The power of time

I am old
my mind forgotten
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

I am silent
my words unspoken
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

I am still
my muscles wasting
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

I exist in twilight
leaves have fallen
naked and cold
winter approaching
my dance is over
a tune stopped playing
my silence filled
with children laughing

my last act
a final curtain
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

My mother’s name is lost
to everyone beyond her children.

“She was beautiful.
What was her name?”,
others would say to me  
when shown her image
hanging silently on the wall.

In the chanting of it—their wind
echoes my death back in a cloud
of disinterested kindness
and muttered miseries.
  
They know only their faces,  
the renamed mountains and rivers,
the new language of their exile.

Not that—
she was wind born—
knew her better name.

found myself feigning to be real,
    believe I'm pretending to conceal,
how little could one know ones life?
    even less do I know mine own strife

asked a fact only I could know,
    to not say, I would now have to show,
weak records from which to assess,
    so I craft an educated guess

focused on a fading charade,
    remaining brainpower working hard,
keeping the trust of my allies,
    to do so - I must stand my lies

hexed with an unbreakable curse,
    staying here - would only make it worse,
not long before all is forgotten,
    mind, memory and past turned rotten

T'would be grim to share a life with me,
    Meets no reminisce with memory,
When on our favorite day of all,
    I'm left with nothing to recall.

Our guests arrive, the altar manned,
    I see you, your heart and your hand,
Held so close then kissed so tight,
    Receding visions of that night.

The pacts, promises that we'd taken,
    I would retain them - I'd be mistaken,
And when we both pronounce "I do",
    I won't remember - it's up to you.

While measuring the blueness of the sky,
the figs went stale.
You open your hands to grasp the last fresh ones—
like a prayer,
or a leaf in its senescence.

The heart constricts itself into a void,
like the death of a love
that arrives too late at your door.

Your forgetfulness has misplaced all your memories
somewhere in the house,
and, somewhere you end up—
without trying, but never in exile.

Your arms that hold me leave no comfort.
But the hands slotted around my neck,
They fit perfectly like a missing puzzle piece.
Once the puzzle is finished, it is meant to be forgotten.
And so I will be forgotten,
To this curse of a once promising life.