Cycle of Forgetting

Folder: 
2020

My brain whirs when the sun goes off

and isn’t it funny

that I have always been nocturnal even when I am asleep

the loner the

lover the

one to grow at night alone

the one to build arches that stretch

toward the hibernating sun

and build nests scattered with moonlight

you will never fit into

 

Isn’t it funny

the only time I think of you is in bed

when that’s the last place you wanted to be

 

The stars think I am attuned to you

and the way time is shoved down my throat here

 

When I think about it I can swallow it,

a spoonful of earthquake shivering down my spine

until it becomes a part of me

 

I walk through the almost-fire,

the heat that chases me until I look right at it

 

and under these swollen memories I step

and I forget you.

somehow

I forget.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/15/20

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Starward's picture

I love the poem's phrase, The

I love the poem's phrase, The stars think I am attuned to you.  Brilliant phrase!

Starward

[ * /+/ ^ ]

Silver_Birch's picture

Expressive

An expressive and eloquent write. Quite poignant.