Well, December brings a lot of memories. Each day is filled with the wonders of a past from too many lives. It can get overwhelming, but I welcome everything in and I let the ghosts paint anything they want over the canvas of my mind.
My skin is bruised all over, full of scars, remnants of too many “pasts”. Nothing is lost or forgotten. Every grief, every laughter carved a map on my skin. Over the years I’ve become transparent, but my shape remained the same. I still haven’t taken my life into my own hands, I’m still looking for reassurance that I’m real. Every day I’m trying to keep myself from drifting away, to stay present, but still wearing my past like an everlasting perfume.
My bones are scented with the fire of a kiss, the ashes of a painful death, the ruins of a broken family. As I’m standing with my feet in the snow, I look up at the myriad of unnamed stars, hypnotized. Many of them are only ghosts of a distant past, just like my memories. Some day, their light will fade away and I won’t ever see them again.
My decaying body, my frail bones, and my heart will disintegrate in my own pool of memories that will eventually dry out. And just like a dying star, it will be as if I’ve never even existed…
Writing, Reading, Living, but mostly Hiding 