sayonara sarabande singing sweetly sound sleeping sophocles.
surrogate souls summon starbright, starfright.
sea salt, sea salt swearing seamen.
simple seeing sans solely simple.
simple singing spiritually simple.

… did i stutter?

I’ll forget. I know I’ll forget. It’s already begun to happen.

I forgot a song today; the registry faded, like ancient sun-bleached advertisements.
Neurons in cacophony, confusion onset.
Ocelet scarlet, but even too I’ll forget.
And this, tarlatan like a knapsack.
Job called, he wants his grief back.

Of course I’d forget. I’m weak. I’m human.
But what, when the notes and melodies; words like sophocles;
When the basic elements that make up a song, are so ingrained to my concept of you.
The bait, the love. The late. late. late. late.
The late you.
I cry over your epitaph. I cry over it a thousand times.
Of course it’s not enough. Of course such a weak and paltry cliche would never be enough.
Though you’re six, I can never eleven.
Nevar forget, nevar.

But I forgot.
I forgot these notes and melodies
words like sophocles.
I forgot it not once, not twice, but thrice over and more.

I forgot the songs that represent you.

Just like I’ll forget everything.
And forget that I even once knew.

Isn’t it sad?