Memory

I have a thousand memories of yours. No countless, some I threw away, some lost in the dark woods. Though all of them still resided in the amnesia jar that I keep beneath my bed. I only ponder about the last memory of yours. the very last one where you walked away. You were miffed with me because I had become me. You did not ask the reason behind the metamorphosis of my crooked soul. I had torn apart my rosary that day and every bead uttered sheer unlove for you that day. yes, you are that raucous memory that I supress with my smile,tears and medicine.

Someday it will fade.

Someday i will die.