Poetry

Memories Found and Lost

Drifting away and forgotten.

Fading Away

Someone once said, “I looked in the mirror and what did I see,. . .” What if I looked? Would I remember it was me? Would I want it to be?

I hobbled to the mirror, but was afraid to look in the glass. What if I saw something dark that reminded me of my past?

What if I realized the past was not glorious and carefree, that somehow my mind escaped the reality?

What if I looked and didn’t know it was me? What if the vision set my broken memories free?

I couldn’t delay it for I had nothing left to lose For I lost everything else but floating, disjointed images of you.

So I opened my eyes and gasped at what I saw I was staring through the glass at nothing at all.

It was not the me I remembered, who was looking back at nothing. I looked longer, and harder, just to see something.

Soon, the visions became clear. It was me, looking back at me, in the mirror

At someone who couldn’t see That I was there, all this time, just struggling to free

The memory of the years of life I had given And to escape from this foggy and confusing prison.

Despite the slack muscles, the bags under my eyes The man in the mirror was looking at lies.

An emptiness of a thousand years, Filled the canyons etched in my face from millions of tears.

Eyes still blue, Seeing pieces of me and you

In the fragmented memories of a vision of youth Just out of reach, as if lies, not truth.

But not remembering who you are Is like reaching for a life left behind so far.

Memories I need back, I beseech, Drifting barely out of reach,

I peer into my soul, Looking for the glory days of old,

Seeing the ghosts of my past Chasing the ghosts of the last

Memories of a beautiful girl finally breaking through, And what it would feel like to be alive with her again, but the moments were few.

Too soon, she disappears in the mist My memory closing up, tightening like a fist

Crushing her image and scattering it to the wind Where it blows gently away from the part of my mind where it was pinned.

I stare at my figure in the glass, reminiscing about what was Regretting what wasn’t.

Soon, drifting off again into nowhere I can come back from, lost again, there,

In my fragmented mind, The mist closing in from behind

Obscuring the past and cutting away reality like a dull knife Tearing the fiber of a dying memory of an old man and his life,

Leaving me lost, Wandering the dark tunnels of my mind again, memories dissipating like frost

That thaws as the sun rises and causes it to melt, The pain of forgetting once again being felt,

Until the memories and the pain are gone And I am nothing again and, once more alone.

Chuck Roast is a writer, author, word generator, hack, scribbler, literary genius, penman, scribe, litterateur, poet in residence (my house), satirist, and humorist (“humourist” for those of you who like the “incorrect” spelling)for Medium and the publication Illumination, among others, a Top Writer in Satire and Humor, owner/editor/writer of his own Publication, Dad-Bods, which is currently sitting idle while he develops his social media skills and gains more exposure through manipulation of said social media. He was recently curated for the first time, in Poetry, for his poetic story, Remember the Founders and Their Reasons.

Here are the links to his accounts, LinkedIn, Twitter. Comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading. Write On! Write well, write good, and write enough!