Remember Me
Observing silence isn’t easy when it’s quiet,
When the spectating stops.
When life sucks your soul back in,
and your mind has regained its license,
and it whispers memories so sweetly.
So its hands are delicate
and the realisation presses itself inwards
and the wipers clear again
and it checks the mirrors
And the wipers clear again
and it swerves off once more for the night,
phone in one hand,
drink in the other.
The dent in your mind never leaves,
but the brain amalgamated to cover it up and grow and absorb.
The flesh will always sink back in.
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