Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2015
Amnesia
Empty space
Dear god where have I gone?
Wait, stop, rewind
I don’t remember believing in you, I don’t remember you ever helping me
Do you forget my prayers like I forget the verses of my favorite song, your name uttered every chorus, the search unending
I don’t remember gentle kisses, warm hugs, spoonfuls of cold medicine my throat closing on it’s self because the taste of rotten grapes bleeds down like thick blood
Sticky, unending, nasty, dripping, does it even work
Is there something to give me back my memories I can’t find, will it taste as bitter as the memories, or will it be a sweet relief like water or a spoonful full of sugar
“A spoonful of sugar helps the medi-”
*******!
A spoonful of sugar isn’t going to let anything go down smoother, it’s just a lie to mask the stabbing pain of remembrance that leaks into your mouth and mind, a path you didn’t carve yourself
Those memories, they aren’t good, they aren’t sweet
they drag you through hell and back, the flames licking at your chest until they burn through your flesh to reach that fragile heart sitting in your chest
Your chest
It holds the most weight, they tell you your shoulders hold up the world, the world isn’t as much of a burden as your life is
Those memories forgotten, those remembered, those you live in this moment
Those weigh more than everyone’s expectations and lies told to you so they might sleep better at night
Remember that time you stood on the edge of a hill, sharp metal shrapnel staring back at you unblinking, a cold tiny hand holding yours while you say your last goodbyes
but that’s not what was running through your head, or the words of your scared classmates, no
It was how much the falling, tumbling, scratching, impaling, digging, and breaking would hurt
But you wanted that pain didn’t you?
A small child at the age of 8, ready to accept death, a term you shouldn’t even know
It wasn’t the last time either
You’ve held pills, blades, liquids, anything you could get your hands on
They’ve all weighed down your conscience until you scream in agony, a sound that rips from your throat and leaves a trail of red upon the air
They fall and tumble to the ground, hastily picked up before your parents come home to see them spilled on the worn down blue carpet that covers the bathroom
Wait, stop, rewind
I want amnesia like air, like Jack Daniel's to a drunk, like ******* and **** to a drug addict, to my lungs, thirsting for air because they have enough trouble getting it in the first place
It’s not as if all your screaming helped or anything
So just shove it down my throat, watch me choke, but not like I’m dying, oh no, like I’m craving more and I can’t swallow it fast enough
Give me my amnesia
Hydra Rogers-Barnes
Written by
Hydra Rogers-Barnes
2.3k
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems