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Forgetting
Loneliness crackles within me like
that bonfire I went to four years ago.
And here you are now, saying
how easy it is
for you
to forget.
All I have now is my memories, and
it’s odd to know
I won’t become one of yours.
Maybe that’s a good thing.
I am my past.
And now every detail haunts me,
What I should have said,
Shadows on my wall,
Cramping and shrieking in my lungs.
The dank art room,
the pens I wrote with secretly in Bible class,
sweat of the bathrooms,
the back seat of my mom’s car,
staring at the ceiling for
days, months, years,
sedentary. Unable.
She said I was a black hole, after it ended,
and am I still?
How long will it take you to forget me?
How long does it take anyone?
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