Memory is flawed.

It dredges up only the best and the worst of things, and never the uneventful and mundane. I’m sure we’ve had a lot more memories, yet I can’t remember mornings that were as simple as making a cup of coffee or just us sitting beside you in silence. I’m sure there were days where we fought just so we could passionately make up, and nights that ended blissfully, but they are buried deep beneath the darkness of the cracks that ended us.

I am sorry if the latter is all I can remember. Our legacy deserves better, but memory is flawed, and I have nothing.

*For Day 29, Our Poetry Journey Contest
January’s theme: abc’s Revenge

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Take my hands, will you?
What use are they now that
I have nothing to hold?
Tuck me into the spaces
between your fingers,
where I know I’m safe.