-- Murdered Memories --

John Herlihy

I murdered my memories long ago,

Because all of them needed to die.

Feelings I no longer wanted to know,

On the present moment I wish to rely.

Some people end up living in the past,

Their laurels and wreaths often inspire.

But these little successes will never last,

They burn up in their own funeral pyre.

Memory’s ghost may still often return,

Our memories never truly leave us alone.

When we think of them, hearts do burn,

Reminding us of failures already known.

All things die a natural death, memory too,

To sweep clean life’s slate of all it ever knew.

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(c) John Herlihy 1 May 2020