accoustic rhetorics

Memory, pause, play and replay sensory story,

for the reality of NOW,

is back to what happening THEN.

In retrospect, is not that you are my everything,

is just that nothing about you worth anything,

beyond all things i used to thanks giving.

What distinguished us disguised us,

throught time and travelling space,

thought still remaining at the same old place,

though never occupied mass or weight.

Memory becomes just a sticky waste,

masquarades like a shadow with no face,

only the trace of the past and haste.

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