Sometimes I forget how hard it is to forget. To let my mind be the grave that buries even beautiful memories.

I forgot to write our obituary, even as I mourn, borrowing pictures from yesterday’s time to create illusions that we never died.

My mind believing but my heart denying that we too have become like the war heroes of old, existant only in stories told. Let not time unfold, as history fades away bearing no relevance in today.

My heart beating like a stuttering tongue, as all that we once were embraces obscurity. Remind me to to forget, as my tears like a heavy storm wash away the print of hands that once wiped them.

I’m still like an actor who forgot to update his script. Living today from yesterday’s reservoirs. Remind me to remember that though yesterday died, today can either be its tombstone or tomorrow’s womb, pregnant with the possibilities of what we still can be.

So if forgetting is so hard, I’ll just remember, that change that does not go beyond grieving the familiar is death. That if I only learnt to adapt death wouldn’t be an end but a transition to something possibly better.

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