Memory

the once tender tendrils of memory

had now become tightly bound twine

enveloping, entrapping, my heart and mind –

a twine closely intertwined with barbs

that pierced my skin and broke, to tiny shards,

what little remained of my sanity.

 

 

the more i fought it,

the tighter the twine became

decimating, destroying, my heart and my brain –

suffocating me, the salamander-colored vines

obfuscated my thoughts, my eyes,

leaving me with a predilection for self-destruction.

 

 

in pure self-preservation,

prevarication became my occupation,

calming my heart and soothing my mind –

the lies were good, the lies were kind, the lies helped me breathe

and, slowly, the twine began to unwind

at last my vision was clearing.

 

 

and then, as my breathing became easier,

those omnipotent tendrils, having just resigned

their stranglehold on my heart and my mind –

began to whisper enticingly, calling my name

began to tighten again, it was the same as before: 

he called to me, i whimpered, and knew nothing more.

Memory...

 

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