a tinge of remembrance

a tinge of remembrance lines the halls where stopping to look at words evokes something unnameable.

a wish to be forgotten is granted before asked.

there are so many people inside of me without a license, an id, a something to prove they exist. i pray to forget their names and the stories they tell, stories of living in bodies not weighed down by compounded traumas.

their vision of lightness haunts me and if not for gravity they might have been strong enough to leave, leave me like everyone else.

instead they dance down these halls inside of me as i walk with my head held high, their puppeteer strings balancing a sadness invisible to the human eye.