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You've kept your secrets for so long
that you yourself
have forgotten what they were.
The lies you've told
with sufficient frequency and conviction
- now even you believe them.
And memory is malleable.
You no longer remember the nature
of the guilts you carry with you,
whether they were petty misdemeanours
or war crimes,
whose heart got broken and by whom,
as past loses shape and substance
until only an abstract sense of it remains,
and there's no one left to remind you:
This is what you did.
This is how it was.
Perhaps that's how you wanted it.
All I know for certain:
you're better at keeping secrets
than promises.
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Well, this hits pretty hard. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism when we fool ourselves in believing in our own lies, twisting about our deceptions every which way 'till we find the justice in it. Insightful work.
"And memory is malleable." This relates to everyone.. I don't know that it was your intention but it surprised me with the veracity of what we beleve is the truth.
The way you end is is masterful...
"Perhaps thatâ??s how you wanted it.
All I know for certain:
youâ??re better at keeping secrets
than promises."
Thanks for the read.. I enjoyed it.. you're very talented.
