My Malleable Memory

You will soon find,
There are no easy fixes
For the bendable metal of my memory,
Now aged by nearly a century.
It twists and grinds,
As it melds and mixes
It’s mangled mind behind
what you see as empty eyes.
Bubbles of bruises
And broken bones surface
On the shredded sheets of time,
Made moldy by my watery eyes.
My malleable memory makes
A childish chase
For what remains
At the arrival of old chains.
I never remember
Names that I need.
Even the dimensions
I see now number
Less than three.
If you cannot love me,
Because you cannot see
The past inside
These old eyes,
Just let this elderly
Memory be, please.