A memory is but a dying flame,
Fighting to consume just enough oxygen
So that it may linger a while longer,
Before it inevitably slips away.
The memories of us flicker in my mind.
The one of how I want to remember it.
And the one of what we truly were.
Yet, do they not burn on the same candle?
Is it but one memory, split into a twin flame?
Indeed, it is but one memory, pretending to be two.
One memory gazing at its own reflection.
A flame that loses itself in its reflected dance,
Though it knows deep down it lacks any rhythm.
And in time it knows too that this dance won’t last.
There is nothing that remains but a forever frozen past.
Like every dancer before it, this one too shall fade.
A memory is but a dying flame.
No matter how it may recreate itself,
It is destined to die.
*from my poetry book, Restless Reflections
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