Memory

I never know what to say.
Haven’t had a good way,
Of explaining how I feel.
People try to help me deal,
With life and its ambiguity.

They try to make me see its beauty.
All of its details,
Highlighted to a tee.

It’s a beautiful patchwork of art, you see?
The memories.
All dark and light,
With bits of grey in between,
Are easy to see.
Everyone makes the claim,
That as a whole,
It’s a magnificent masterpiece.

But all I can see
Are all the pieces
You took from me.

Fragments that can never be retrieved.
Their absence allows me no reprieve.
Such pains taken,
to make it all fade away.

Drinking, drunken,
I’ve drank.
Sinking, sunken,
I’ve sank.
Further and further downward.
Consumed by the fiery glory,
Of the tattered, repulsive, and gory,
Patchwork of my life.

Its stitches highlight my strife.
Ensnare my heart and soul.
The never-ending needlework,
Rips into them,
Brutally piercing away,
Any feeling left inside.

The colors that bleed out,
Both blackened and colorful,
Blind me.
Drain me.
Despicably,
Reframe me.
And above all,
Remind me.

Of You.
Of the Me I was.
Of Us.
Of the broken, irreparable trust.

And so I drink.
Don’t sleep a wink.
Forever hidden away,
My feelings and I.
Imprisoned.
Enslaved.
To the demon that calls itself by name:
Memory.