It used to be.
For so long it used to be -
in the darkness a familiar face.
Stroking me and holding me.
Bearing the load; the heat and the explosions.
For so long bursting through the door, unwelcome
but playing the projector of the memories
in which we were bound - loving, speechless
and blind to what was to come.
But now… I am reaching the end.
Now. No. No more.
Those memories?
I have rubbed them all out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow. How great it would be if we could just grab an eraser and scrub out our unwanted memories! Unfortunately it's not so easily done. Great poem!