The Kind Side of Amnesia

Sometimes I wish something would happen to my memory.

To where I don’t remember your chapter of my life.

So you know how it feels to feel forgotten, only to actually BE forgotten.

You never existed.

There is no recollection of your entity.

A clean, empty slate of nothing but me.

No remnants of your face.

Or the way you tried to love me.

No vision of the bookmark placed where your story interrupted my own.

Kind of like this:

There was an accident.

She was hurt.

And then she got hurt.

Her functionality was in tact.

No damage to the flesh.

But she got hurt.

Her head.

Her mind was shaken.

And though most of her memories remained.

There was something odd.

Missing.

The past year of her life.

She has nothing to recall.

I saw her endeavors with my own eyes.

The places she went.

The things she did.

The people she knew.

She knew you.

You were the primary human in her life.

The sole keeper of those times.

And she can’t recall a thing.

I asked her how she felt.

I asked her about you.

But she looked confused.

“I’m sorry but I don’t think you’re holding the right conversation with me,

Maybe you’ve got me mistaken for someone else?”

She mumbled.

I swore she was just hurt.

And still wanting to forget you.

And pretending like you didn’t matter.

Because of her pain.

But she is right.

I think I am trying to converse

With someone completely different.

Someone that’s gone.

Missing.

Just as your memory is missing from her.

Because she got hurt.

She doesn’t remember the heartbreak.

The chasm you created in her soul.

Her heart.

She doesn’t remember you,

Not seeing if she was ok,

When she was hurting.

She doesn’t remember your toxicity to her psyche

Or the way you threw her out

Or the hurtful things you’ve said

Or the heart you could never give to her.

She doesn’t remember that she meant nothing

While she was hurt.

Then she got hurt.

And you mean nothing.

Do you wish she didn’t forget you?

As you had forgotten her?

Your inconsiderate absurdity was a choice

Yet you will always remember.

But she....

She will never recall you.

Not by choice.

But because she got hurt.

And here you stand to face the past.

To see her pass you on the street.

Only to not bat an eye,

Or look your way.

Not even to try to avoid you,

Or ask you how you’ve been.

Because as you’ve shunned her from your life,

An accident has stolen you from her mind.

And I think that’s karma.

Or maybe luck.

Because now she never has to keep thinking,

About how much she loved you,

And was left by you.

I hope you’re happy now.

You wanted a stranger,

And here she is.

Completely unaware that you may actually give a shit.