Flying moments

Embracing the memories that crash reality,

I don’t weep in silence nor take the steep way of thoughts that flow upon

I only whisper, to the other me

“I wish memories could die,

I hope I could slaughter any memory that haunts me still”

I saw them flying by,

My memories: everything that sang a hymn of the fine old days

Of anything low and high

Dark and light, bitter and sweet

Blink and gaze, fast and delay

I rushed to take a piece of paper and a pencil to sketch them down,

To lock the paper in a box, to keep them to myself,

Then I realized, it was too late to be laughing at a mirror,

Like a clown, when

they are not what I own

I crippled again,

I wrote a song instead,

I laughed recklessly, for the song was a stranger’s,

And my drizzling laughter hid behind a raw soul drifting in anger

All the flying moments flew away, while I stay here like a bird in a cage

I discovered freedom in writing,

I sense no longer safe to write on the page