What Was

 [inspired by: "Amelia by Cocteau Twins]

[Draft from 2021, never published until now]

What was is completely gone.

What happened will never biodegrade

like rubber gloves in the gutter

until we are all gone.

It's easier to forgive the things I was robbed of

so that I can keep looking

and sheltering my back from the wind.

Time converted into light

and in a flicker its absence stung

like a thinly quick papercut.

I bled just a little.

Days and nights kneaded into themselves

with stress of my "diseases."

The diseases of my brothers,

my kin, my false child

choked me into calamity 

and flung me to the edge of sight. 

So I wandered in the silent space

looking down at the noise.

Living just to breathe and pay my dues

seems like cheating life itself.

Where did the memorable go?

Where did fantasy and the unforgettable 

go to hibernate?

The old threads are hung up and retired,

but will it be a joke to take them off

of the hanger tomorrow?

Will you laugh?

Maybe I will, too.

If and only if, will I bury

it then.