Memories are just memories

For memories does not spark my romance with life

Nor do they slip through the curtains of moisture.

All these years, even when I was a teenager,

I watered the dying roses and Orchids

Flushing a spew of lightning and rock salt

People became a mystery to me, leaving me stained

Behind the sturdy brown doors, a knobless door

And then began a veracious knitting

of words with emotions

I popped millions of pills, smoked cigars

Innumerable open wounds made me ugly, they said so.

Placid openings spewed disgust, Torrents powerful.

So, memories clasp you, twist and give a sudden twitch

They furl and embrace your naked soul,

Immersed in the droplets of blood and ink.

Memories are nothing but floating crisp memories.


image courtesy- My Valiant Soul

Published by

my valiant soul

A dreamer and a believer for the upliftment of women rights. A published poet, author, writer. Believes in dancing and cooking amazing food for hungry souls at times. Loves to write and write till the moon is satisfied. My writings can be found at Visual Verse, Indian Periodical, Sick Lit mag, Duane's Poetree, Thistle magazine, among various others. Curator of Olive Skins.

49 thoughts on “Memories are just memories”

  1. I finally understand that every writer is somehow twisted, lost… A writer is like broken glass,… No writer is sane. We have somehow been unamended by the sane. And loneliness is a part of every writer/ poet, no matter who we meet or end up with, there will always be an unfilled hollow gap.

    Nicely written Devika, I finally begin to understand your writing and I know soon I’ll get to where you are 😊

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I like the last line as memories always stays with us like forever however it is upto us whether to cherish joyful moments of past or to keep remind them & ruin our present.
    Sad emotica but beautiful on words as your poetry always talks.📝👌

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Loved it.. memories don’t remain memories, they become part of you embracing your naked soul, as you write. The beauty of memories is their hold tightens if you resist and try to forget.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Memories are powerful and most powerful in your hands and style. I don’t think there’s good and bad memories, and all become good, much better than learning experiences in a skilled pen like yours and a mind that can mesmarise and conquer.
    It’s like just one ‘hi’ a day can bring life to the dead

    Liked by 1 person

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