Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

The Fade

Sleeping with his shirt wrapped around his pillow,
I am struggling madly against the fade.

It will happen anyway.
Only outside our perception
do they stay bright forever.

Our memories soften, losing cohesion
and immediacy
more charmed and mellow
with the passage of time.
Annoyances become
positive attributes become
absolute qualifications
for sainthood.

I have seldom known this cycle to fail.

Our desire for nostalgia feeds itself,
an ouroboros
rolling rapidly like a hoop
away from disambiguation.

So the scent of Old Spice
will trigger a response
bartered between
amygdala and hippocampus
in the sun-washed archives
of the mind corner
where he lives forever now.

He will dwell there
a perpetual thirty-five
tall and strong and funny and kind


and yet larger than he ever was

gently faded around the edges

a personal myth.

(c) RCGA 2014


Comments on: "The Fade" (1)

  1. omfgitstabitha said:

    This is amazing and inspires me to start writing again! ahhh. finding you on Ello really has been a blessing. all kinds of feel goods. so wonderful to meet good people.

    Liked by 1 person

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