memo-ires

Streams of desire dry even as the eyes well up.
Rivers of sorrow swell and swirl in grieving silence.
Stifled heartbeats speak up in muted whispers.
All horrifically fighting for one last claim.
The right to keep one's very own pain.

For pain is a reminder of better times.
Where every memory is knotted in time.
The times when the seasons sang to tune.
when memories were made to relive in dreams.