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Krithi Panday Jul 2016
i. I almost forgot the taste of cold blood on my lonely tongue and tears in my throat but then I found your old poetry book and I felt glass shards fall into my mouth as I read over every single pathetic word you wrote.

ii. I almost forgot the taste of broken promises under my bent bones and honey in my skin but then I saw your pictures in the paper and I felt firecrackers explode in my ribs as I looked at her head tucked in your chin.

iii. I almost forgot the taste of winter dew on my summer’s dress and apple cinnamon in my hair but then I visited your old vintage café and I felt too bitter coffee drown my limp body without as much as a care.

iv. I almost forgot the taste of caramel kisses on my hips and cotton candy in my lungs but then I heard your voice and I felt sour sweets bury my candy cane skeleton as I listened to the verse you sung.

v. I almost forgot the taste of dead roses on my hands and black violets in my heart but then I remembered your proposal and I felt diamonds cut open my burning flesh as I thought of your abrupt depart.

That’s it.
I almost forgot.
I almost forgot what it was like to meet you, to love you, to lose you.
But then, I remembered.
I simply remembered meeting you and loving you and most horribly, losing you.
Who knew an act so simple could be so terrifying to do?
But then again, who knew a human made of cartilage and 70% water could be too?
But I guess you weren't really made from all that,
You were made from cinnamon and chestnut,  
from 45% stardust and 10% gold,
And a part of you was painted to look like the sky and the rest of you, like the ocean, cold.
Well, at least in my eyes you were, still are.
And I think that’s why I can never truly forget you, no matter how hard I try, no matter how I run, how far.

I still remember the boy with roses for fingers and not thorns for hands.
I still remember the boy with oceans for eyes and not storms for body lands.
I still remember the boy with gold for blood and not oil for veins.
I still remember the boy with love in his heart and not a heart full of pain.

Do I love him? I don’t know
Do I miss him? I don’t let it show
Do I want him? I can’t be sure
Do I need to forget him? As fast as I can or I'm going to go mad searching for a cure.

*~ {I have trouble remembering a lot of things, but I can’t seem to forget you}~
I'm really proud of how this came out considering I wanted to actually scrap it. Inspired by science and my horrible habit of forgetting most of life, I wrote this trying to express how one can be doing fine until the little things come back to haunt them in memory and how it makes you question a lot regarding your true feelings
Michael Leggett Mar 2018
It used to be just you and I when we were together but now you've been freed you have grown so far away from my reach that even though you say those very same words they don't mean what they used to mean because ...
They are not our words anymore...

The memories, special, are now tainted by the blackest figments of my imagination and trust although needed fades from my empty shell leaving fragments of emotion scattered like snowflakes in my heart...
They are not our memories anymore...

At....
    .....the...
            ......End of it all it will be just me and you...
No matter who else holds your heart it is my name thats carved into it with a dagger titled everlasting love...
I'll be better.
I've changed.
hello Aug 2013
Be my 2 am
You'll see that in this early hour of the morning
The real me surfaces
Because no one is looking
No one is taking me in
Thinking about it
My 2 am knows more than I ever will
Because somedays I have forgotten
What I used to fret over at this time
It will always know what I thought of last
Before my eyelids faltered
It will always know what I looked like
When my breathing became steady and even
So, if only I could shove
Every single 2 am
Inside my brain
I will know exactly what I think of you
I will know exactly why I am so sad
But I do not have hyperthymesia
So I will never know
But if time does not exist
And only clocks do;
Maybe 2 am is just a personality
That finally takes over
Once I've realized
How lonely
I am
Courtney Marie Mar 2021
our antique soul
so veracious
cages our dreams and hidden secrets

our soul's a relic
our incarnation
holds all memories back to when our mother tongue was Thracian

our soul has hyperthymesia
mind of an elephant  
writes our life in lyrics to a string of an instrument
The title is Latin

— The End —