The Forgotten

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He knows of my brilliance
The burning kindle
Hidden within the spokes
Of a different lifetime,
Opening doors to worlds
I have no right seeing.

The layers of satin
Surrounding my heart
Pay homage to the thick beads of iron
Pooling in his.
The metal has melded and settled within,
Leaving no distinction
As to what his heart longs for
And why it is lingering.

Anxiety drenched nights
And sarcasm laced days
Smother the connection to his past.
Where does that leave me?

I am lost in my heart too.
Lost on account of his pain and his losses,
Dead on account of my fears,
Buried in satchels of what could’ve been.

But I still have my layers
Where his beads of iron
Have been ripped from his grasp.

We are dead inside
He has no past,
And I have no future.
But we stand united
In contempt for what the world gave to us
We are the forgotten.





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