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Filament of Days
White pearls from my brocken necklace
ran down my blouse,
bouncing on the marble floor,
until they vanished under the furniture thrown around.
Just like my days- scattered, unmemorable,
lost forever between two and four digit numbers.
Is it better this way?
Do you remember the bike ride to the ocean?
We held hands and drew together a moon above us.
Just go and buy a new necklace!
Past can’t be beaded back together.
Those sweet times, still warm in me,
are better left behind.
Fold them in your back pocket of your faded jeans;
forget about them, until they bleach away to none.
Sections of life saved in sealed glass jars without a label;
lined up neatly on the shelf, just like enlarged neck jewelry.
You forgot about me, I’ll do the same.
I’ll lock the door behind me and go to catch a sale.
