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Casey Mar 26
There are times when I can't remember
what I had for breakfast,
or what I said a minute ago,
or what day of the week it is.

But the one thing I can never forget
is the way I just SAT there
and did nothing.

I can never forget the starving look in his eyes,
or the repetitive thoughts of
this isn't right, I don't want this.


"Why didn't you say no?"
I'm still so afraid...

Constant thoughts that everyone's using me, I'm just some gullible toy until they get bored.
Sky Nov 2018
My existence flickers,
but only in my own mind-
I seem to be forgetting reality,
and the memories I've captured
are finding ways to escape the jar.
I chase them through the dew-speckled fields,
but they deceive me every time.

And sometimes I stop,
and fling myself to the ground -
roll to face the stars,
and nearly drown in my own tears,
and ask

Sky Aug 2018
I worry about forgetting -
my memories aren’t sharp
like they should be,
everything is out of focus.
I can barely see what happened
three years ago-
My past doesn’t feel like mine.
I am losing my history.
Aaron LaLux Aug 2017
I can’t remember to forget you,
I can’t forget to remember you,

I can’t remember to forget,
I can’t forget to remember,

I can’t remember to,
I can’t forget to,

I can’t remember,
I can’t forget,

I can’t,
I can’t,


I remember,
you told me to watch Memento,
that must of been over two decades ago,

it’s interesting how we remember little trivial things,
from years ago,
but somehow we sometimes forget important things,
that happen moments ago,

Selective memory is a thing,
and so is selective amnesia,
I suppose in some ways my memories of you,
are kept inside me as personal mementos,

I miss you,
I miss the life we never had together,
I miss you massive fridge,
I miss our days in Bali,

I miss making love,
with you like you were the only person in the world,
and I mean that honestly,
because in those moments you were the only person,

the only person,
that showed me hope,
the only person,
that showed me love,

when I met you I was a street kid,
I had no money and no class,
but you took me under your angel wings,
and I will always remember that,

I can’t remember to forget you,
I can’t forget to remember you,

I can’t remember to forget,
I can’t forget to remember,

I can’t remember to,
I can’t forget to,

I can’t remember,
I can’t forget,

I can’t,
I can’t,


I know,
that you’re married now,
happily in fact,
and I’m not trying to mess with that,

please don’t take these words,
as an invitation of any sorts,
I wish you all the best this world has to offer,
because honestly that’s what you deserve,


I love you,
I can not deny that in any way,
but that love,
is so far beyond this physical plane,

I know how dysfunctional I am,
and I’ve given up all hopes in making a family,
so when I see that you are married,
I truly pray to God that that marriage for ever after progresses happily,

and actually,
I only wrote this to tell you that I finally saw Memento,
and I don’t even if you remember telling me to watch it,
I guess that’s part of what Selective Memory Loss is,

or rather selective amnesia,

anyways whatever I’ll just get back to what I was doing,
so that you can get back to what you were doing,
which is continuing to live this life and create this memories,
or erase these memories either way I hope you get whatever you’re pursing,

I can’t remember to forget you,
I can’t forget to remember you,

I can’t remember to forget,
I can’t forget to remember,

I can’t remember to,
I can’t forget to,

I can’t remember,
I can’t forget…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

author of multiple best selling poetry books.
Lauren Michaud Aug 2015
The wind used to howl,
but now it only cries.
The poignant sting of snow
used to ambush my eyes.

With Fall and Winter in a blur
all year is Summer and Spring.
I used to walk, walk with you
be pushed in a kiddie swing.

The geese were more afraid of me
than I was ever of them.
Oh, Memére,
how I miss the days together we would spend.

The sun still scorches,
but not as sweet,
as clouded with young eyes

You can’t compare a tropic spring
to dusted Autumn skies.

The pumpkins red,
lit up at night,
would glow upon your face.

In winter,
every snowflake seemed
to find its perfect place-
upon your window,
lit up with care,

those glowing,
plastic candles.
They’ve faded as the years have passed,
like sun-bleached, light-pink, sandles.

You’ve been lost,
like an age-pulled button.
Your stings have not held,
Your mind forgotten.

So I dig, I dig, through your sewing kit,
to stitch you back together.
At least for my own memory,
so I can remember forever.

Somehow I’m not as nimble,
somehow just not as quick.
I couldn’t find the seamstress in me
once you’d fallen sick.

I pump, I pump
the metal petal,
to piece you back together.
That button used so many times
in deadly, freezing, weather.

Somehow you slipped,
not just through my fingers,
but in a dreadful way, where the soul seldom lingers.

You just got worse
I cried to find
that stinking button
that was on my mind.

The final piece that would solve the puzzle
fix a confused mind,
your struggle.

Now I see,
now that you’re gone,
that I had had it all along.

The key, the clue, that wretched button.
And then it hit me,
all of a sudden.

Those trembling geese, the Autumn skies,
the snowflakes that had stung my eyes.

Those things are all I really need
to make sure your heart still beats.

Your eyes,
your chin,
your soft, thin hair,
all the answers
were always there.

Now whenever I miss you,
these gems of memories,
they pull me through.
In loving memory of Julie Michaud: a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and talented seamstress whom we all loved dearly.
Dear eyes,
Stop bringing his visions,
For I'll lose my sight if you continue

Dear ears,
Stop litsening to echoes
For I'll forget to hear

Dear lips,
Stop muttering his name
For I'll run out of words

Dear hands,
Stop sketching his face
For I shall forget to write

Dear legs,
Stop walking towards him
For I shall lose my path

Dear heart,
Stop longing for him
For I'll forget others in life

Dear mind,
Stop thinking of him,
ForI shall never act..


Dear me,
Start moving on
For I have a life to live!!!!
Steve D'Beard Sep 2014
the back and forth trajectories
the internal out-of-sync in-sync directories
of treasured moments, of pleasantries
and the reviled relived accessories of treachery.

My memory is pitted with chasms like Swiss Cheese
the phantom dreams of being hit by a car in a winters bite
the realities of unconsciousness and brain spasms
the fathoms baffles in batches and waves of breaches
disfigured features like a frosted window caked in creatures
burrowed and riddled like a parasite in the spite of night.

By the time id got to hospital id forgotten my own name
fortunately I had a gas bill in my pocket which hadn't freed itself
while being violently hurled over the red car bonnet
and it became the one and only evidence that I even existed
even though the A & E nurse insisted and persisted on asking questions:
my address, date of birth, blood type, emergency contact -
like Id have it tattooed on my body like a scene from Memento
amid the voices in crescendo and brain-damage thumping techno.

That was a few years ago, or was it, I couldn't be sure now
but some days I forget what I did in the morning
so I just have to live for the moment somehow
the memories like Swiss Cheese constantly morphing
to the piped tune of the cerebral banshee
buzzing in my left ear like a perpetual honey bee
makes me wonder though;

I am lactose and diary free - the dominant dietary preponderant
some modernistic conglomerate causing ultimate lethargy.
Does this mean if recollections are like Swiss Cheese
I am intolerant to memories?
I use poetry like post-it-note reminders before I forget who I am forever
Megan Doherty Aug 2014
It could only be a liquor-soaked tongue
spitting lines of future love,
grinding my memory to the ground,
leaving me with no recollection of the sound.
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