neoacidcreep

I forget the taste of your sweat
Or the scent of your fresh blood.
The memories pile-up together,
Laying one upon the other.
Who, or what, are you to me now?
Now that all is left are memories,
Jumbled and distorted by time,
Yellowing like pages in a book.
The curvature of your waist,
Your face on a moonlit night,
The feeling I get when we kiss,
How your weight used to feel;
These are merely abstractions.
I believe they happened once,
Once upon a time, so long ago,
What are you to me years later?
Glorified, exulted, sanctified,
I have carved you out of stone,
Permanent and immutable,
I made you out of dirt and clay.
You are my creation, my sin.
I hold these vague memories,
Hold them up to the heavens
Pleading for their destruction.
Still I know tomorrow will come
Ushering with it another salvo,
Another chance to deify you
Eighty-six thousand chances.
The cancer that grows hidden
Deep within this shell of a man.
Your memory eats me away,
Stripping me of moving onward.
I wish I could excrete you
Let you seep out of my pores
Like some kind of diseased puss,
Allow to you pour out of my soul.
Who are you now I wonder?
What are you to me any more?
A collection of vague memories
That I cling to with the dearest life.
The color of your hair or your eyes?
How far you came up on my chest?
What your laugh sounded like?
Our first kiss or night together?
I can remember none of these.
All my memories centered squarely
Around this one central idea;
I was a better person with you.
What were you even then to me?
Everything you were is nothing now.
You have no matter, nor depth.
You have become one dimensional.
I want you out of my entire being.
To purge you out of my soul,
That would be ideal to me now.
I want to watch your memory die.