My Forgetting, My Opiate, My Oblivion

Shh…Don’t call me, don’t recall me, My name is the only dress I wear, Silently adorned by the scarf of scars

My name is the first to go, Followed in gush by the irony of life’s plot, It’s a sob story, why would you ruin your day? On something you have never read, never even heard of

For every fleeting moment, my memories retire, The ones I have harbored, the ones I have unwillingly carried for so long They recede into the southern hemisphere of my brain, To a little pond by the hills, where there’s no pain

Many flights to and fro, I kissed my muse goodbye, Let the quadratic equation pack its bag and witter and die.

As I count straight on my fingers, memorize the names of the planets, the new and the old, There’s a lot I miss, as the Pandora’s boxes unfold.

Maybe it’s a big ‘L’, from the elements we call life, Maybe it’s a ghost of the dead weight, my dreams, your heart- a knife.

Well on my way to oblivion, as I join the corners of my hurting spleen, The pain dwindles into the dark, as I am forgetting on Opiate, how everything feels.

The opiate of love, forgetting and longing, The subtle art of mourning and grieving, It’s all gone, to the mystical corners of a river, Whose name flows in ‘L’ and parks in curves, Maybe, I am also hard-forgetting how to swim or surf.

No wonder it’s true, I wake in the midst of night, Drenched in sweat, cold, looking for a book on war and love. No wonder the moon seems to have drifted so far, No wonder I am forgetting the name of the love book, I remembered by heart.