memory marionette

dear grandfather:

the look in your eyes

it’s changed.

from a loving gaze

to a lonely, confused haze

clouding your cornea, absconding your sorrow.

you’ve lost the shine in your eyes,

you’ve forgotten your days of limelight.

the way you speak

it’s changed.

you widen your lips with utmost excruciating pain and effort,

drag your voice a nanosecond longer than usual.

P.S. we don’t ever tell you, but everything you say,

you repeat more than once

you repeat more than once

you repeat more than

a broken talking doll would,

your memories warped and withering.

the way you walk

it’s changed.

your desire was once unstoppable, uncontrollable,

you flee as soon as you hear the faint ‘creak’ of the gate

sneaky, and cheeky, always thinking of ways to escape.

bound to a wheelchair in the confines of your own home,

now the only thing you cannot stop or control from slipping away,

is what you remember.

all that’s left is a snip, a pinch and a pull

of the final thread left holding you together,

for you to come undone,

the swift, swooshing fingers of the seamstress

operate and trim you into mere

cut outs of scrap fabric and untied knots.

i’ve seen her working over these years before my very own eyes,

but she slaps my wrists whenever i get in the way.

white hair and unshaved beard aside, you still look like a masterpiece.

but in your head, where’s Mr. Puppet Master gone?

you’ve always been in control

why can’t you control which of our favourite memories to keep?

she’s said that without them you are nothing,

a doll lifeless without stuffing.

an empty vessel that only used to be

and isn’t is.

although you’ve changed,

you’re still who you used to be in my heart and head.

i will remember twice what you’ve once forgotten,

for you.

i love you, but to be honest,

you’re a possibility i fear.

i fear i would lose my control, my stuffing, myself, like you did yourself.

i fear i would get pulled apart and thrown aside

once i’m done being played with, just like what life did to you.

sometimes i wonder if you realise what i’ve realised, what you’ve become.

you’ve become another of life’s forgotten, and forgetting

memory marionettes.