Poison

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.