Memories decorated my mind
Better still the walls I lived in
The funny instincts I had
Believing you still coming…

Knock knock I refuse to open
Scared you are not the He
The he I carry in my heart…

Anger belittled me in my very ego
Little did I know the level of my own height
Once I thought I saw the eagle up close in the sky…

But an ant was way taller than I
Pride and memories
Unwanted desires
The pain of the heart
The sorrow of the soul that wept
The unseen body I made love to…

You were the ghost that died
The one I carried in my heart
Memories in red black red black red
The Ghost that died was the you I never had…

© officialmandy, 2015


The Wandering Feet

They say the first to go in your memory are faces,
Hers blotted by caustic water.
It is remarkable how they go.
First a rain drop,
Then the deluge.
He could remember the sound of her voice tugging at his ears,
Angry and whining,
The mosquito that never feeds.
The dry cackle of her laughter.
He remembered the days of grass,
They used to tumble about,
Rolling and giggling,
When their limbs were mere buds,
Wrestling away over many a doll,
Yes they were best buds.
Yet he could not recall her face,
Ravaged by caustic water.
He searched relentlessly,
Scanning the dark,
Albeit fruitlessly,
For he had nought but a penlight,
A point of light,
Sifting through a haystack of night.
Giving up he went up to the crest of the hill,
Overlooking the sprawl of the town,
He found her waiting for him.
Hair billowing like a forgotten…

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