Forgotten.

Accursed.

Hated.

Spurned.

One grows accustomed,

It is expected,

It is accepted.

Forgotten though,

Lost in memory.

This is what I see.

A faded spectre,

To those who once knew me.

A ghost of the past,

Better off,

Forgotten.

——–

It’s rather strange . . I’ve always had a memory where I do not easily forget things.        Everything is in vivid detail, so many things no matter the number of years they are just as fresh in my mind.        (Unfortunately it does not work as well for some things, but then it would be in whole a blessing.)      In reality, it’s always been more of a curse than a blessing.       I realize this each time I talk with people I’ve known for so long, but have not talked to in a while.        What I remember, nay, cannot forget, is lost to them.

——–

Distant days,

Lost in the flow of time.

Memories of the past,

But time is no barrier.

To me they are not lost,

Not forgotten.

Yesterday it could have been,

I sometimes wonder if I could tell the difference.

The mists spin,

Twisting in my mind.

Remembering all that was,

And yet never was . .

Forgotten.