mmmmcccxlviii

Down As The Way Up

Memory can’t save

everything. Some
things that I used
to know can, perhaps,

never be known again.
Like being sexy, or con
fidently flirty. [I hear
a collective sigh?]

But imagine my dis
appointment. I think
to myself, This should
not be the case. But

that I let you take
these things away
from me, that’s the
hell of it all. Imagine

your surprise when,
all these years later,
I refuse to blame my
self, blame you. These

rare moments when
I give in, blame my
self, utterly, are the
worst possible. This

should not be the case.
Thieves of the soul,

all of you. I was not
born to play this part.

A Feeble Attempt