I still feel you…
like a thumbtack on my heart.
A splinter never removed
but always getting deeper.
And the pressure builds, until
every vain in me pulses
with heart ache,
an ache that dwells
in my subconscious mind,
and no one can solve it,
but only make it relapse;
as things from the past
become present once more.
It lingers in my head,
stamping its melody,
until all I hear is
that memorable ringing;
and it surges down to every nerve,
until I’m completely paralyzed,
remembering.
It’s like the bitter cold
pricking my face as
I search for warmth, as
memories tear at my insides,
starving for recognition,
but I want to forget,
exile every memory,
so I no longer suffer the past.
But mute me with an anesthetic,
So I can wander in a world
of no sensation.