Moments Most Forgotten

I live in the moments most forgotten. Where unimportance and monotony yawn, I prevail. The most insignificant detail stands like a monument reaching toward the heavens of my soul, slipping simultaneously into oblivion and eternity.

I am the cloud passing overhead, momentarily reprieving your gaze from the afternoon sun. I am the bruised fruit you turn in your hand, momentarily inspected before returned for one less blemished. I am the bead of sweat forming on your brow as our passions align. I am the fleeting dream you will never recall as your consciousness greets the day.

I could be significant, but only then would my passing to a memory lend you pain. I could be your joy, but only in sorrow would you long for me. Lingering before your recognition, I will never be forgotten. Only in insignificance, I can never fade away.

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