I wonder how long it's been: neverflame

It's a frightening thing, forgetting.

It brings courage and loss, insult and reintroduction, relief and resoulution.

It's even scarier what one forgets, 

sometimes it is not the days that are forgotten, faces, and names, and locations, even emotion can be recalled.

It's feeling, it's feeling I can't call back, it's far from embers or blackened ash, it's neverflame, not so sorrowful as a passion unborn, or one seemingly mercilessly extinguished or dare I say killed, 

it simply, isnt. 

the shade of a ghost, 

your book in my library has simply unwritten itself, I can read it, and pour over every word, reading as clear as day, 

but something is missing from it, the text well full of lustre, has lost its shine. 

Another book intersts me greater now, so full of light, I pray it does not become like the one I pour over now, 

whatever was contained within, perhaps it never was,

It's a frightening thing, forgetting.