Every Week

March 2, 2017

Every week,
I get a day to remember.
Only a day,
that is all I am allowed to have.

The memories will always come to me,
no matter how hard I try to push them away.

I see her face,
young and perfect,
grow old,
I see her beautiful bright eyes,
grow clouded.

I don't want to remember anymore.
I want to fade back into the fog,
I want to stay in my broken state of oblivion.

I can tell,
It will be my last day to remember.

Her face is streaked with tears when I see her.
I cannot hear her words,
I can only read the words off her lips.

“I am so sorry,
I have to let you go now,
Please come back to me,
Before it's too late.”

I don't want to remember anymore.

I want to speak to her,
tell her everything I have been longing to say,
but my lips,
no matter how hard I try to move them,
stay silent and still.

I want to take her hand in mine,
feel her delicate fingers,
and comfort her from this pain she is feeling,
But my arms refuse to move,
and I can only wonder why.

She is still speaking to me,
but I do not try to listen,
I focus on the pain in my chest,
the pain that is getting stronger.

It hurts,
this memory,
It reminds me of how helpless I have become,
I want it to go away,
I want it to all be over.

It is as if she can hear my thoughts out loud,
I see her wet lips touch my cheek,
but I do not feel them,
I cannot feel anymore.

I see her nod her head,
her tears running faster.

I don’t see myself lifting away,
I feel it,
I cannot remember the last time I felt something.

I see her eyes,
One more time,
And I wonder,
If I will remember again.

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