Forced Amnesia
The memories of her that hurt the most
are always good, not bad;
they ambush when I'm less engrossed.
Recalling happy times we had
is guaranteed to change my mood to sad.
Her birthday will be very soon
and I shall play no part -
another year, the same old tune:
my smile will not betray my heart
is aching that we live apart.
So she will never hear
how much I scream inside.
But does she ever shed a tear?
If so, she'd quickly override
regrets - or guilt for tears I've cried.
written 8th March for Emile's English Quintain contest
Copyright © Jack Horne | Year Posted 2022
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