Your memories have turned into poison.
It’s now a dark viscous liquid flowing through me.
I don’t want to dump it in the sea, for the fear that the
little fish would suffer.
I don’t want to throw it on the ground as it might dry up a
plant.
I can’t put it in a fountain pen as I am afraid of the venom
it might spit on the white paper.
I can’t store it in a jar, because someone might consume it
and die.
I have absorbed all of it.
The black tar is rotting me from the inside.
It continues to change me.
I am not the same person anymore who had started collecting
your memories.
I continue to shrivel until I die, the poison will keep you
alive within me.
