by Benjamin White.
Triggers.
All the senses are triggers,
Recalling the past
To let emotions resurface
And subsist on thoughts,
And the consciousness
Of nostalgic possibilities
Lost and gone
Sinking in the depths
Of time trying to –
Wanting to –
Enrich the experiences
That experienced enrichment –
Embraced,
Even as they drown.
Without memory
There can be no love,
So Trixie is blessed
To have forgotten.