Etches

I'm told to create new memories in places of old, but my brain is not a toy of magnet dust. Memories with you cannot just be shaken away. It's difficult to replace the laughter on city streets or skipping over bridges. I can't replace the rainy evenings in, and the sunny mornings out. There's no forgetting holding your hand in crowded places so neither would be lost, or hugging in secluded spaces to express the other wasn't alone. The echo of arguments speaks loud in the light of the buildings we lived in together, manufactured beacons that make my stomach turn whenever I’m forced to pass them. Then there's any time I'm held by another man I must remember that it's not your arms around me like all the times before. Erasing you from every sight I see would be asking for me to hide the moon from the night sky. Its soft glow will always be present like that of your shadow over my city ventures. I now leave this place knowing it will be the hard reset needed to wipe my slate clean. For if I ever return then I want so very much to be anew.