POETRY. DEATH. MEMORY.
A Tale Of Love?
Death + Memory.
I woke up from a blurry dream and walked straight into a panic attack.
It wasn’t a nightmare, in case you’re wondering.
My mind was attempting to escape itself, which jolted my body into being awake.
Has the insanity of my ancestors finally caught up with me? Or am I the prelude to insane ancestry?
Either way,
I woke up, panicked and looked for you.
That’s a lie. I scavenged for your presence, like a stray dog. Rummaged through trash cans searching for you.
Until I remembered, you died, just yesterday. Or was it five years ago? Or today? The difference is lost on my senses.
I’m not sad. I’ve just gone mad, is all. I have a short memory, sometimes I forget you died and I remember it in a dream, that wakes me up to confirm the reality of it all.
I grieve you, endlessly, routinely (with vigor and grace). Yours, is a fate of death and mine, of memory.
So, admittedly, yes
I lose my mind on some nights
The nights when I wake up into a panic
Those nights, when your ghost is restless.
What with your ghost, not having any spatial awareness. Hovering about, in need of my company.
I revere that about your death. Your neediness to be kept alive. The necessity of it. The devotion. The selfishness.
I pray that, you continuously come back to me (through death) and that
I continue to lose my memory and remember you all over again, every night, just without (the panic).
