Dublin and Sword’s Castle
Tag: Memories
Childhood
It's funny what insignificant details stick out from my childhood.
I can remember the neighbor kid's laugh,
the entirety of a book minus the title, and the foul flavor of the Flintstones vitamins that were force fed to me.
Yet the details I want to remember have been lost throughout the years.
I can no longer recall the exact model of my parent's gray car, when I lost my slightly yellow front tooth, or the address of the blue house that I spent my first years in.
It seems that I have lost those details.
It seems that I have forgotten everything except what I had expected to forget.
Home
You didn't give me shelter.
You gave me a cage.
You gave me whitewashed walls and
called it a home as I walked warily
on eggshells.
Yet I learned to crave the quiet.
I preferred to live in silence versus
hearing one of them crack.
The sound of them shattering
was somehow as loud as your palm
against my face.
Found
There are thousands of variations to each situation I've placed myself within.
Each moment I've experienced could have been changed and every encounter slightly altered. Yet, I do believe that each and every outcome would have inevitably led me to you.
Somehow I still would have found you.
Imprinted
My earliest memory in life means nothing.
It involves a woman I don't talk to anymore,
a place I've never gone to again,
and a food that I've never really liked.
Yet, there it has stayed.
Imprinted into my brain with a pointless and uninspiring permanence.
Smelling like stagnant lake water and
tasting like warm Kraft singles.
Picture
One of the best pictures I've ever taken is one I struggle to look at.
At one point I even framed it, but I had to take it down.
It was more than just an image.
It was a melancholy memory that I mistakingly forced between wood and glass.
It was a moment in time that should always remain just that. Nothing more, nothing less.
Unreliable
I'm an unreliable narrator.
My stories are missing timelines and their details have been diluted by either drugs or depression.
Although that's probably for the best.
Why repeat what I'm urged to remember,
but compelled to forget?
Burdens
We are strangers, you and I.
Two people only aware
of one another's existence.
Yet I am desperate to tell you
my most awful secrets...
My most shameful
silent sufferings.
Would you like to hear them?
Would you like to help me
carry my burdens?
Disconnected
Your number is still in my phone,
yet I know I'll never call.
At this point it's simply an area code
and seven digits held between a couple
little dashes.
That's all it is.
A series of symbols secured to a dead line.
Yet I still refuse delete it.
I still cannot let you go.
Purgatory
You are my purgatory,
a perfect medium between
heaven and hell.
I crave your warmth,
yet I fear it just as much.
AO Poetry 
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