Moving friends are moving vans
Who take our memories with them.
First they box the light, then heavy;
The longer the journey, the more dust these collect.
The lighter memories are the shallow times
The ones we recall with a smile or a grin
These are the first to be sealed and stored,
Put away, only hoped to experience again.
The heftier loads are the ones that scar,
The ones that are etched on our hearts and minds
And because it is impossible to truly remove such marks
We must tear off these body parts.
And that's why it hurts.
YOU ARE READING
Silent Songs
PoetryStanzas and lines that make up dreams, wishes, and long-lost memories.
