Memories
He told me once
about memories,
How they stay
in our heads
like an animated history,
He said
they never fade
like photographs do,
He said
they were
never forgotten
no matter how blue,
He said memories
could do magic alone,
They could open
a wound
left stitched,
left closed.
They could dig up
a pain left buried,
buried deep,
They could also
revive ĺove
that once died,
They could
give you answers
to your what's, how's,
when's and why's.
"Memories are beautiful."
he said, his charcoal eyes
gazing down at me.
"Specially, this."
he added,
smiling ever so lightly.
Now, I realized.
He was right.
Because I remembered
him and his words.
And never will I stop remembering.
Never will I forget.
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YOU ARE READING
Short-Story Poems
PoetryThese are short stories dressed in poetry. (Original compositions) All Rights Reserved. x Ate Edge
