Memories
Memories are the dried leaves;
They flutter and crumple easily
When you try to hold them,
Cradle them gently.
They can be cast into the wind
With wild abandon,
But then they fly back into your face.
I choose not to remember.
I don't want to remember.
Sins of past, dessicated blossoms,
Muddied once-white feathers,
My entire life-history,
Meaningless,
I want nothing to do with it.
But they keep flying back into my face.