Cuckoo spit


I forgot what happened yesterday, and tomorrow will forget today
It’s the only way,
a coping strategy to free myself,
but memory remains
like blood stains on my skin
getting into every crease.
There is and will be no release,
memories are police to catch me,snatch me,bind me,search me out and find me, then they grind me into dust.
If I must remember,
let me remember this,the first kiss,the first bloom,laughter in the bedroom,the groom, the bride,
but these memories hide
and I forget again.

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