#93

And I never stopped grieving.
I just forget.

Oh, how fortunate of me
to simply just forget.
To be unworried of things
that truly mattered.
And only what the moment costs
becomes the most untrivial
of the gravest matters.

But this blessing isn't entirely that.

When memory suddenly clicks,
and pictures of her start flooding in,
and her words are kept on repeat
as if a great encore stood ovated
for a symphony of orchestrated conspiracy—
how I remember
I never stopped grieving.

Me forgetting
just made me feel
she's there,
always.

She isn't gone.
She's just...
there, waiting for me.

She isn't gone.
She's just...

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#15

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