Memories live on my tongue
When it moves,
They line up right in front of my eyes
And whisper stories I wish to forget
Like how my mother died
With my father's hands
On her neck
Fighting her skin for it's purpose
Wrapping around it
Till stars descended with her breathe
Memories live under my pillow
They drink my tears
And dig at my heart uncomfortably
When morning comes
They dress up, apply my make up
And tuck themselves in the back pocket
Of my tight black jeans
I forget to breath sometimes
When in crowds,
They tumble out of my pocket
And lodge themselves in places my curves refuse to pass through
These memories are like those streetlights down the road
They flicker like they are bickering
Each time I pray for some peace
