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I don't r e m e m b e r it.
A time where my skin didn't sag in the hollows of my cheeks, wrinkled and shrivelled like old leather.
I don't remember a time when i could frivolously skip round the cities heart ~ ignoring the blood pumping through ~ and simply let the wind whisper sweet nothings into my ears and dance through the thick tendrils of my richly coloured hair.
I don't remember admiring my portrait in reflective glass whilst i bathed in the ignorant bliss of not knowing beauty has an expiration date.
I don't remember when youth still sunk into my rich skin it's velvety sun rays radiating innocence and yet i wished age would hurry its saunter towards me and make it a sprint.
I don't remember falling into that sweet familiarity of a loved ones face recognising each blemish and fold, swimming in adoration with each delicate or rough sound wave that danced through there lips.
I don't remember the jittery goosebumps that pierced through my the surface of my smooth skin when my lips touched a lovers lips underneath a flirtatious mistletoe daringly dangling a few inches above our heads.
I don't remember what i did yesterday or what i had for lunch.
But then again i don't remember most things.
I sit a useless ornament people are told not to touch because it might break not remembering when i could cartwheel in thick sands without breaking.
I drink in the pitying looks not remembering when i was the one throwing the pity thinking i was being kind.
I shout at these strange people that come to visit me claiming to be relatives not remembering when i would welcome them with a rough embrace. Lips shove out weightless compliments such as 'you look a bit better' not remembering when lips spoke heavy words that said 'you look beautiful'.
I watch as loneliness taunts me into the inevitable oblivion of never ending ebony not remembering the surrounding of a rosy tint of love the so called 'unconditional' kind.
Recollection of the past simply never existed for me.
Memory doesn't marinate my mind in its stinging liquid like it does with yours. Soon that heart that inches death itself closer will catch up, it has no reason to convulse in it's aching alone anymore.
You can package me up in a pretty box made with thick mahogany because i deserve a graceful and poetic place to lie in or maybe because fear that i'll jump back out bites at your scalp tearing out your thick locks.
You can pierce mother nature's flesh because she spurts no blood like i did. My blood that stains your trembling hands a passionate shade of crimson crime knowing your the one that drove me to this beautiful box.
Those same fingers can throw me six feet under like everyone here dressed in the shade of death has been itching to do.
You can seal me in miles and miles under compressed earth so that i am peaceful in my eternal silky slumber or so you can't hear my screams that claw at your ears.
Those delicate ears that listened to the relentless sound of my time ticking away counting down those last lonely hours, minutes, seconds.
Then the parade of night can offer one another empty condolences as you cry tears of grief or is it guilt that punctures your lungs, cracking each rib one by one but only you can hear that
pleasantly deranged sound.
So then you can understand loneliness. then you can wish that you didn't r e m e m b e r .
***
don't be a silent reader.
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until next time i can't sleep.
