846. Untitled - June 07, 2013
At the beginning,
the words echoed and pierced
everything,
like a tattoo carved into the surface.
Always in the same spot,
never totally fading,
nor ever forgotten.
And gradually,
the words would be gathered up
and placed in small boxes,
along with everything of that moment,
all the feelings
carefully put away
until it was filled
and then placed in a corner.
So this continued,
so many boxes over time
that would sometimes spill
across the surface
that never truly forgot
those first words
that still blazed up
in sense memory.
The boxes are many now,
filled with words meant to be gone
and forgotten,
as they gather brick by brick
replacing memories of feelings
with a blank emptiness
that soothes
and hurts at the same time.
The pleasures of feeling
are few and far in between.
Everything is tamped down,
a dulled sensation
if any at all.