Ghost of Memory

We used to be like family. 

We'd come together 

Reuniting at last rites over caskets of those we've known who had died. 

Celebrating for the season.

Remember how we let the days take shape? 

But the business of our lives had us separate. 

Relative. What does that word mean? 

A determiner that is detrimental to our upbringing

Or, a memory of what we used to know,

Now a stranger to our memories. 

You create families. 

I am not a chef. I never knew the recipe. 

The hardest lesson to learn: is to Let go. 

When everyone is dead and gone.. What is the purpose of moving forward?

How do you create through the challenging? 

Forgiveness. I do not know its limits.

I can't muster up the motion to give it. 

I dream of her far away again. 

The only love I care to have seems improbable but not, unstoppable. 

They say "Care for your well-being", although I was raised in a sick home. 

Taking for granted the emotional damage. 

When was the last time we talked, 

Without you being an asshole or setting off life's alarms? 

Only to arrive when needed. I said "Hello..." to stick the dagger deeper. 

I'm a ghost of memory, another face of whom you once had gleaned.