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Literature Text
Day by day
my breathing becomes more regular,
the pain subsides
into fragments of what I call
my memory,
Memory:
a little cranny inside my brain
where all the pieces can come together
forming a puzzle of sorts,
but I never get around to finishing it,
Dust soon starts to collect,
masking the images of
sweet ol' memory lane,
Day by day
I've chosen to forget,
because as soon as I realize
that it's your face in this
jigsaw of a subconsciousness,
I weep.
my breathing becomes more regular,
the pain subsides
into fragments of what I call
my memory,
Memory:
a little cranny inside my brain
where all the pieces can come together
forming a puzzle of sorts,
but I never get around to finishing it,
Dust soon starts to collect,
masking the images of
sweet ol' memory lane,
Day by day
I've chosen to forget,
because as soon as I realize
that it's your face in this
jigsaw of a subconsciousness,
I weep.
Sometimes it hurts to think about the past.
Comments14
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I am not really a great fan of written work but I do like this - very great words.