There are things that, as time goes by, begin to wane away from our memory even if we don't want to and there are also things that refuse to disappear even after how many times we try to make them to.
If I could associate the act of forgetting with anything easily perceptible, it is with combustion; turning tangible things into pallid ash. The constant torture of slipping yourself away from something or someone until their significance fade into nothingness. You just let the pure incandescent fire crackle and devour every ignitable memory and ache and feeling that makes it hard for you to let go. Sometimes it takes only a moment, sometimes a lifetime, but no matter what just keep burning. Just keep on setting yourself ablaze until the skin that they once own will leave no trace in your body, and the wounds that you thought will not heal shall turn into scars. For as flames and dry matter make contact – cloud after cloud – smoke will rise like ghosts finally out of their shells.
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Depth of Me •••#Wattys2018•••
Poetry"I'll write for what was left within the ashes; for the depth of me when all else is gone." cover drawing by: Carolina Roda
