Your Chamber Of Memory Poem by Zoe Guillory

A house for the dead who are not dead.
A cage, a prison where you hold your abusers.
Beautiful on the outside. Inviting.
Like a mansion, welcoming and decorated.
But if I were to take a peak inside,
even if only for a moment,
I would spot the trap, yet never
would I be able to escape it.
You'd pull me in with a firm grasp,
for you never forget the insult.
All these people here, all these moments.
What have they done to be forever damned,
to be reduced to heartless corpses
and shredded canvases, abandonned
and forgotten by all but you.
All of your experiences, all of your life's flawed
occurrences, rotting away, then being blown away
with all the other dust
in you elephantine memory.