Stuck to my MInd

While I strip my room and move out

I wonder if I'm throwing away my memories.

All that's left are the things I can't get rid of.

No matter how hard I try.

Smells never quite leave the nose,

Whether it’s my Aunt’s alfredo sauce,

Or hot and heavy metal in Dad’s driveway,

It somehow finds its way back.

Taste will always be the true.

From tender vienna sausages to sweet airheads.

But the peanut butter is the hardest

To get off the roof of my mouth.

Sight isn’t always dependable

But the colors will be there behind my pupil, waiting.

From the sparks of logs in a bonfire

To the shade of water as the sun spills over it.

Sound always manages to rear its head,

Uttering echoes of tetris from the T.V.

Or the call cicadas and crickets mingling,

But nothing sounds sweeter than the Kettle’s scream.

Touch is fickle.

It’s hard to find and you can miss it in a heartbeat.

But sunburns always feel the same on my shoulders,

And a gas stove always warms my cold palms.

I know that while I give away bags of worn down clothes,

My toys and paints and middle-school books,

And embrace the next part of my life,

I can always remind myself with the things I can’t get rid of.