The Persistence of Memory

"How cruel, is the golden rule, when the lives we lived are only golden plated?"

Guess in life we have to know when to pack our bags and move on, but memory works in mysterious ways - the harder you try to push it out of your system, the harder it comes rushing back at you, filling up all your senses with the object of your memory.

Cold sweat comes down your neck when in the middle of the night, she comes to you so real, and you can feel her warmth as if she was just lying next to you; her scent permeates your very being, instinctively making you try to draw her closer, only to find that she's not there. Her tongue still dances all over yours, letting you taste her painful sweetness of her lips; her words still hauntingly echo in your head, laughing and mocking you because you're not really with her right now. Whats worse, you place your hand over you chest and you feel this large gaping void. It doesn't hurt, but it's dark, deep and leaves you feeling so empty inside because you know she took it all away.

Happy now that you managed to take it all?

"Thanks for the memories, even though they weren't so great..."

But then again, memories are all that's left.

Note: I've been busy the past few days. Met up with some good old friends, patronized the cinemas, got some good art done and am just done with my driving theory test. Doing my best to keep busy for now.