first draft

It’s not enough to be; exist, persist.

It’s not enough to simply reside, 

to show the disparate parts and pieces of myself in unseemly display

or gather them close, hidden inside

Like the shameful secrets I’m told they 

are not

were not

The past is a path we travel to the people we become.

Life must have meaning, cause, purpose.

A reason

Family. Friends. Husband, child, mother, son. Sister, daughter, spouse.



Wallflowers fading from photographs, erased from history

Collective memory

I cannot erase my past

My past erases me

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