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poetry

1 Poem, 1 Sadness

 

That Time You Whitewashed the Past

 

That time you

whitewashed the past,

you arrested my identity.

It was our past

but you wouldn’t claim

your half, insisting

I imagined mine.

It’s why I hoard my

memories, bury them

like the trash they are,

because who

could believe your ideal

was my surreal.

 

It’s hard to find

an audience for trauma

in the feel good

fashion of selfie hell.

I didn’t have an iPhone

when I ate out of

the trash; there is no

evidence past my mind

and the random child

who caught me reaching.

 

“Pics or it didn’t happen!”

A phrase of this age of

disbelief in human suffering.

As if we borrow sad

only for a  moment

when flashbulbs are present,

and nothing else is true.

 

mrrogers

8.28.18

About missyrogers

Lifelong Michigander, early 40s, craft addict, chihuahua collector, coffee drinker, recovering human being, bipolar I, electronic music lover, bullshit caller, 5' tall, my blood is organic, and I refuse to be anything else. I will write until I die.

Discussion

7 thoughts on “1 Poem, 1 Sadness

  1. An interesting truth, that how we experience things impacts our memory of events!👍

    Posted by cathylapointeblundypoet | September 6, 2018, 10:31 pm
  2. I have three brothers and every one of us remembers the same experiences differently. Memory is weird. This is a wonderful piece, poignant and yet I can feel the anger beating through. Nicely done!

    Posted by KD Bota | September 7, 2018, 8:05 am
  3. Really beautiful. More so that every word has a chance to sink in.

    Posted by Shona Moonbeam | September 7, 2018, 12:14 pm

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