Carried on currents of time and misleading memories
Like driftwood from some faraway wreck
Fragments of my former life float back to me
Pieces of DNA from another me:
Snatches of diffused light that filled me with joy,
Stray threads of laughter that left a lingering smile upon my lips,
The squeak of my chair that voiced my presence,
The fall air that coursed energy and purpose through my being.
I never thought I’d miss that distal self.
Instead, it sends me pieces of the whole, which deceive and gladly mislead me down a different path,
Confidently telling me, whispering seductively - longingly -
The way I came is different somehow,
That the unseen whole - that place I’d come from, that other me - was not what I thought.
Almost, it seems, the fragments have changed.
To become pieces of a puzzle whose picture is different now;
A picture which deftly hides that which I no longer wish to see, so that all that is left is polished and smooth.
Rough patches worn down and forgotten;
Bitter tears not simply wiped away, but wiped from existence,
And in their stead only warmth and happiness.
And I let myself be fooled, willingly,
Let myself remember a different portrait of time and place,
Let the tune be altered and the words changed,
So that this is the life I remember.
This is the life I choose to miss.
