Flood of Memories
I hate that tide of memories I get every time I’m alone.
I hate it how it’s always about you and it never ever leaves.
You don’t care anymore,
So why do I?
The thought of your touch repels me,
Yet still draws part of me back,
In a way that makes me sick.
You hardly ever leave my mind,
And it makes me want to rip it out.
I want to take everything that reminds me of you and watch it burn.
I’m fine when I’m with other people,
Or my muse.
But then I’ll see you,
Or be alone too long,
And the flood rushes back.
It’s a flood of memories,
Memories of what we did,
And every time I pass by a mirror in the flood,
I see your handprints all over in bright red.
This is a flood I can’t control,
No matter how hard I try.
And you’re not.
And my final question is…