Memories.
They flood back.
Like fierce waves.
Relentless.
Unforgiving.
They come with pitch forks.
And torches.
Demanding attention.
Demanding a reaction.
There's no way around them.
React you do.
Denial.
They're too strong for that.
Avoidance.
They hide behind corners.
In the dark.
Finding you.
Attacking you.
Anger.
No match.
You succumb.
The sheer volume.
Heavy.
Deep.
Painful.
You start to choke.
Suffocation.
Desperation sets in.
You plead for it to stop.
Make it stop.
Please.
Make it stop.
And then a breath of life.
Lungs inflating.
A smile emerges.
A laugh, even.
Happiness.
There is happiness in some of these memories.
Good.
Filling.
Radiating with light.
And with love.
Lifting you higher.
And higher.
And higher.
Unfortunate.
The higher you rise.
The harder you fall.
And fall you will.
For the happiness is a memory.
A distant memory.
A memory of what was.
A memory of what is no more.
A memory.
It's not present.
It's not here.
It's not coming back.
Not the way it was.
Not the way it was supposed to be.
Forever.
And ever.
Until death does part us.
I do.
Or...
I thought I did.
How did I not know that you were a poet. Oh the conversations we could have had. :) We will save them for Florida.
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