Tattered memory,
Implanted, rooted,
Deep within the vault,
It springs forward,
Pressing to be beheld.
And I can’t place my finger
On it. The way it makes me
Shudder. Shapes seen,
Lines traced. But picture
Not formed. Lingering
There but not wholly.
Should I be emotional?
This aimless feeling,
Familiar but on the edge
Of collapsing forgotten.
It’s on the tip of my tongue.
Words dragged out
To nothing. Bothered
By this faded thought.