Issue 02 Next Chapter

A Memoir
i find myself after
each memory is made,
willing myself to hold on to it.
tighter and
tighter, forcing my brain to
relive it inside my head.
days pass and years go on, loosening
my grasp on my memories,
my mind storing each memory away
never to be seen, only
told that it did happen.
faces and words are warped and
never the same,
left in fragments of glass that reflect only parts of
my memory. some reflect
nothing after being worn and burned
like the tape of an
old film used too frequently,
burning at the seams.
i have no memories, only
the memory of being told and
holding on tight.
Anika Molino