It’s difficult to look outside of my my-
-croscopic lens; it just feels like a job

to never have to consider who is
an actual person that should matter to

me. It’s an almost impossible trick,
that only me and most other adults

can forget how we felt growing into
a new body, how we forget ever knowing

We're just like everyone else who also thinks they
aren’t like everyone else because they didn’t have
someone to hold their heavy lovelorn child-hearts.

All those little trinkets,
bracelets, rings and even a boombox,
that he had others bring to me,
They were all stolen goods that vexed people would come and claim back time after time.
I never had the heart to tell him to stop.
He reminded me too much of a stray cat who’d finally found a temporary home,
where he would bring tributes to
his mistress feet.

When I asked him what he was doing sleeping outside
my front door.
He blushed and mumbled,
that he would protect me from bad guys who could break in
and steal me away.
How crazy and scary of a notion was that?
And yet....
He made me think of a dancing bear who finally could scent freedom without chains.

The day
when they came to take him away.
...
I tried to tell them that he would never hurt me.
That he merely collected broken shards of scattered treasures
that deep inside him spoke about who he really was,
before the drugs castrated his future self.
Later...
When going through the rubble he left behind,
I found the glimmer of a hauberk
forged for an Avalonian knight.

Alone she sits upon her dusty throne.
Her eyes sunken and her long moth bitten gown hung lifeless to her ashen skin.
The unforgiving chime's of time pass her by. Dripping with jewels her boney hand still clung to the broken string of pearls as they roll between the cold stone cracks beneath her feet.
Secrets layed to rest long ago with no voice to tell.
She who has been long forgotten dwells in the silence of her chambers for all eternity.

Lost to the darkness.

thoughts once so clear
now flee en mass like
small birds scattering in the wind...
try to capture one
and it fades to dust in my
trembling hand
my eyes teared up by the loss...
what was her name...
when was it I smiled like the
sun bursting through the clouds on that day...
where did I misplace that long-sought device...
where have all my yesterdays gone...
all escapes along the shifting winds of age
small beautiful birds
plumage so bright and beautiful to behold
loves and laughter, days of wonder and joy
crumble into dust as my forgetful fingers
pry at their edges, trying to recall...
her yesterday was my forever
do you think she remembers me? ...
as I slip into forgetfulness
I hope that I will no longer remember
to mourn my forgotten yesterdays...
age is coming for me
and iv forgotten how to tame that ugly beast

Someone's story just ended in
page fifty-three
The pen fell and no one can pick it up to
start again
The last goodbye is an unfinished line in
chapter eight
Phantom words will be this story's only
friend
"Hello" is now forgotten where the ink bleeds
"the end"
Nobody knows when their acknowledgements go next…

I’ve thought about that so many times before,
An itch on my mind like a scratch on the floor.
I’ve seen my face on other peoples memories,
Boxed away in places just out of reach.
It might be my life but it’s just a figure of speech.

A forgotten fallacy, framed through the ages and found in the back room of an old mans house,
Dust blown, leather cracked and spine broken.
Cracked open in two, bent over a knee and followed by the finger.
Put the red ribbon down and let’s talk it over,
Draw a pretty picture and imagine it again.

Where the wind whistles and the dogs howl like stars in the night.
Piercing the black, thick tar in the sky.
Running over clouds and dripping through my mind, thick like treacle but no half as sweet.

His memories echo in yesterday's silence,
An abyss of agony singing in her wake,
Forgotten symphonies.