Old photographs and poetry...
you still have a hold in my life.
I tear down the images
your face imprints into my mind.
I hide the glass that keeps you constant.
I cannot move one with your perpetual gaze.
If only I could hide the memories...
I heard your words, read on yellowed paper.
I feel the warmth on my face though its meaning has changed.
I burn the language you invented for us.
The love and wit crackle with each flame
I cannot move on with your ancient tongue.
If only I could set fire to the memories....
