That night…

I remember the first time it happened.

It was dark. It was cold. It was lonely. It was night.

I prayed to forget this.

But someone else prayed harder for me to remember.

I don’t have any tattoos. I never wanted them.

Why bother when I have that night tattooed in my mind?

Like that old stain from the old shirt that will never come out.

Like that song that never leaves your head.

You cringe when you hear it on the radio.

You hate it, but you know all the words.

You try to remain quiet, but your lips bloom like petals

Releasing words like spores.

Words that you want to forget.

But they won’t let you.

You can’t find comfort.

Because it’s not large enough to fit the hole.

Really, nothing is.

And the tattoo, the stained shirt, the one-hit wonder of insanity that refuses to leave you alone…

All keepsakes of the thing you lost.

But instead of holding onto good memories of the times you had,

You’re handcuffed by that one moment where you lost it all.

You tried your best to hold it all together

And instead, you feel like the puzzle pieces scattered all over the floor in the aftermath of a frustrated child.

The pieces are you.

The child is you.

You close your eyes to the world because they won’t let you forget

But when you open them, you find your eyes hidden behind shades

Because the sun reminds you that night exists.

And night won’t let you forget.

What you lost.

Who you lost.

And that you lost.