Forging the forgetting 

we shed leaves of lives that seem easy to forget,
bearing remnants of our crumpled skin
in our palms
in the dark,

fragments we tear apart
and forge onto pressed lips,

thinking it’ll dissipate into the air
after we leave this space,

replacing pain with freedom by interchanging labels,
seemed clever at the time,
but we’re not store workers,
and this is not a sale,

thinking we could change their constitutions,
by making the pain two instead of one,

but we still sit
perched against the headboard
in our sleep,

we still turn the pillow over
and pretend it’s brand new,
a fresh beginning,
bandaged, buried, forging the forgetting
of a past we couldn’t bare to confront,

can’t seem to fold the sheets of time
twisting and knotting in the night,

why does it feel like we’re trapped in their wrath,
why does it feel like we’re drawn in too tight,
like we’ll never get out
without losing ourselves,
without dirtying white silk,
without leaving a trace
when we don’t want to take up space,

but they came back as ghosts to haunt our shadows and tread our footsteps,

they walk us through the cool fog
of the crisp morning
unto the tweeting birds sweeping through
the pollen speckled breeze
where the yellow leaves trill
between rugged branches and trimmed bushes,

thinking hard hats would keep us safer
than facing the truth,

thinking hard facts were too heavy
so we let our dreams collect dust,

we set the sheets ablaze,
so afraid, so afraid
that someday soon
we’ll become completely irrelevant
and trapped in the impending haze
of this chaotic maze they call life,

separating the alive from the mundane,
without a word,
just a lingering decay, dust
falling like yellow leaves
and malting birds’ feathers,

it’ll be okay
it’ll all be okay,

someday our fears will be as forgotten as we are,
only once humanity forgets its history
and we can start again
at the beginning,
again.

One thought on “Forging the forgetting 

  1. Rowan

    Great work Chloe.

    “we still turn the pillow over
    and pretend it’s brand new,
    a fresh beginning,
    bandaged, buried, forging the forgetting
    of a past we couldn’t bare to confront

    I love the title, and this stanza it comes from. I like the hard hats and hard facts, too.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s