the forgetting tree

I sit under the forgetting tree.

The shade is nice so I think I will stay,

In spite of all the warnings they gave.

My chest aches,

My lungs have turned sideways in the cavity that holds them.

They are pushing, harsh and aggressive, into my heart.

To breathe or to feel–now I can only do one without pain.

What a choice to make.

I don’t like to decide.

So I sit under the forgetting tree.

The same conversations surround me,

Circling like a twister in clouds of dust.

Sticks as well,

The words spoken behind my back,

The judgements made,

The secrets kept by those who are supposed to know me the best.

There is a hurricane too,

Fast, large rains,

Twins with the wind.

The past mistakes, past decisions.

The blizzard creates a blur,

As I question all the future holds.

All that I’ve done which places the sticks in the ground of the fence to the future.

Snow.

Wind.

Dust.

Rain.

Heaving lungs,

A half beating heart,

Entrapped in a brutal fight.

I have no strength to bother with this all.

And so,

I choose to do what I was warned against,

And sit under the forgetting tree.

There is nothing here.

It’s for the best.

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