Whilst Sipping Coffee. . .


I see life
As a collection of memories.

My mind,
Is like a souvenir shop.
With rows and shelves,
With memories all lined up,
Of others or ourselves.

The memories,
Adorn every nook and corner.
Some are old and dusty,
Difficult to remember.
So I construct the details which I cannot see.

Some are new,
Their essence seems to linger
As they shine amongst their peers.
I stroll away and tinker,
Loosing myself, finding my fears.

I spend my days,
Roaming these halls.
Picking up every souvenir.
They take me far away,
They bring me near.

I know each curve,
each bend, each crevice.
I pass over every edge,
Until I find the one that cuts me,
And brings me back to reality.

Some memories lie in shadows,
As if to say
“Do not touch PLEASE”
Haphazardly,Cloaked under.
blotchy “Happy Memories”

These halls are my strength
Yet also my…

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