Photo Courtesy: Poker Outlet
The aura of my room changed. Suddenly,
when the ink dribbled all over the paper.
One that I had treasured to gather the stories
I wanted to remember.
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The ink on the paper turned itself into a cue
Of the promise, I had forgotten.
The smell now became vibrant and
I remembered vividly the first time
My fingers met a friend that helped me
Talk in a way my mouth couldn't.
I had promised to never let it go.
And I did. A long time ago.
Still trying to recall the words of the promise
I could not fathom.
Wondering how awful it is to forget and worse when forgotten.
