Forgetting

October 13, 2011
I fail to remember.
Who are you?
I have begun to forget who you even are.
You stand there in front of me,
with a mask hiding your humiliated face.
A dark mask,
one that creates shadows and does a remarkable job at
forgetting my pain.
It is all a distant memory,
like a piece of paper with the ink smeared
and the edges torn.
The glass is shattered into a million tiny splinters.
Nothing is able to piece them back together.
The memories are ruined because of you.
Because of the way you have changed,
the act you have played,
the mask you have put on.
What is your name?
Because it sure isn’t the same
of what it used to be
or of who you once were to me.





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