Held deep inside myself
Are the memories of a time long gone.
Only, I was told,
That it had never existed;
That all my memories were phantasms,
Created of a phantasmic creature.
What I believed in, what I loved,
Had always been a lie,
That I would never see it again,
No matter how I fought that death knell.
I am haunted now, living yet another lie.
And Heathcliff’s ghost holds no comfort for me.
Would that I could forget,
All that I still remember.
Would that hearts were like brains,
Feeling nothing; Hannibal’s plaything.
Keeping up pretences, is a chore
I’d never expected to perform off-stage;
Watching ‘Birdman’ living a double life
I wonder, Am I equally insane?
Did I reach too far? Want too much?
I tried to hold the embodiment of water
And now it does not know, that it has carried away
My bitter tears, leaving me hollow.
The bottom has fallen out
Of the bag I am still trying to fill,
With all that I have left that is still
Hoping I am still enough
To be all that I am;
Even with that place inside that refuses to heal over
In protest. Still feeling, as it is,
The pain of still-remembered, forgotten memories,
Who’s ghosts echo in the dark corners of my wounded mind.
© Ruth P. – 2016
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