Don’t look.

The memory is like an ache in my teeth and a twist under each moment. Like a sodden, dirty rag wrapping my feet to a stumble. The abyss hangs sac-like below my eyes, beckoning me to throw hope away and climb inside. But in a wink and shimmy the bone dead is up and walking. I freeze my fear and keep on keeping on.

The memory is like a distant hammering that I can ignore if I keep the music loud. An interruption that warps my words when I speak, so I try not to speak. Like a phantom tickling my toes, but powerless to hurt unless I believe. I can’t believe, I stare ahead.

The memory is definitely gone and my feet are flat on the floor so I can’t fall down. It’s gone and I’m a busy, busy bee with things to do and see. Like the juice of rotting meat seeped into the world, but cleaned and leaving no stain, it’s gone. Like it was never here at all.

15 thoughts on “Don’t look.

  1. So so chilling, and absolutely beautifully written!
    I also just want to say thanks so much for the comment you left on my last post – I was in the middle of replying to you when I somehow hit a delete button and can’t get it back, so just wanted to thank you properly (and read your fantastic work too!)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, I wasn’t sure about this one, so feedback is very welcome. And don’t worry about my comment on your blog, I can go exploring your writing again 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I’ve come to expect a certain quality in your work, and you never disappoint. This one is weighted down with sadness, and though the end seems to bring a bit of light, I think you’re expressing a feeling I know too well–that, “I’ve pushed it so deep it can’t hurt me anymore, even though its really just right there waiting to consume me again when I least expect it” feeling. That sense of false stability. Great work!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, exactly that feeling, I’m both glad and sorry that you understand it. I suppose the trick is remembering that there is never really stability – all emotions ebb and flow. Soon this too shall pass.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Absolutely. Unfortunately some of us, namely myself, have a difficult time controlling, or at least staying afloat, in the various emotional currents. Its a pain, to say the least.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I’m sorry to hear that. Please take care of yourself. (an emoticon seems inadequate here. Is there one that shows a cat stretching in the sun on a boat gently drifting through time under a blue sky, while a distant battle rages, but the cat curls up to sleep unbothered and the boat keeps moving steady and true despite the troubles? I never really got the hang of emoticons.)
        I wish you peace and joy my friend.


    1. I’m planning to talk about it soon, (if I can work out how) although the reality is not very lyrical. I really like your name


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