#468 (outside the snowglobe)

If only

she could drink

away her memories

to forget, like the rest

of her generation. Age’s

spell of fading never

seemed to work.

With every year

everything seemed

even clearer through

the projector of her mind,

images of beauty and horror,

an endless river of remembering.

Doomed to relive the past

but then again, there was the

bright side, she was always

able to flee into a perfect moment

living in a snowglobe

if only for a couple of seconds

an emergency exit for when

the gloom of reality was

eating away at her sanity

and hurt clawed open

old scars.

 

© Matthias Grupe, 28th July 2018

Picture: Jamie Street via unsplash

 

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