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“The bottle containing my memories…”

The bottle containing my memories
was labelled highly flammable
just add sentiment
some desire, not forgotten
some dormant dreams, awakened
the spark of memory
shoots from nowhere
and the smoldering has begun again
I do recall…
and I did recall
just last night
as I shared my bed
with a cigarette
and my soul flew
as it does so often
I just never know where it’s going to land
last night it landed in your arms
where I once found myself
burning, burning
and back I went…

your lips the petals of a rose
your skin as smooth as the satin of my dreams
and back I came…

a smile was not my reply
to my memory’s return
and not a sadness
almost an emptiness
for what wasn’t
but more than all this
it was desire
a sweating, shivering need
as the flames of my memory pierced the night
it was desire
I felt, as the fire that is you was rekindled
awakened from it’s sleep
by accident last night
and now I know
that this part of me
you
will never be gone from my soul
it will lay still
only to be awakened some other night
while I share my bed
with a cigarette

(from “Part Four: Tragic Glorious”)

I think I’ve said before, a thing changes when it becomes a memory. It seems shiny, more vibrant. Sometimes you get a memory out and hold it close to you and smile. Other memories sting. Some can be very dark things. But it takes time – something becoming a memory – for you to really be able to know it’s worth. Some things are just forgotten. Other things…they resonate. And then you realize that they are deep within you. They’re part of who you are.

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