literature

Days Become Years

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Costontine's avatar
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Literature Text

Days become years,
the past gets more blurry every day.
Sometimes,
my dreams forget.
They go back to you.
You're not the you I'm dreaming of.
Sometimes,
my heart forgets.
This happens less and less.
I live.
Memory is a rotten beast
like a cat, it does what it wants.
It doesn't care how you feel,
what you want,
as long as it gets what it wants.
Maybe I'll never feel this way again,
maybe I'll never get past this.
Maybe tomorrow,
I'll throw your pictures away
like I've been meaning to do.
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