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Wrinkled Memories This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

Did you ever see it? he asked.
And I had to remind him that it was he who had brought me there,
That we'd thrown the instruments in the back of someone's little black truck –
Arrived, bumping precariously, up a dusty dirt driveway.
But he laughed, and told me with naive sincerity
And poignant guiltlessness
That, oh, his memory was shot.
Completely scattered, he said with a glowing smile.
As he left, I closed the door behind him,
And sighed.
At his carelessness, the sweet naivety.
What will you have when you grow old?
I wondered,
Because memories are all I have left.
Bittersweet memories,
Memories getting wrinkled on the edges,
A little torn,
Settling into the furrows of my mind with age.
I can't fathom what it must be like,
To not be burdened by the sweetness of the past.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.




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