Once Someone Loved You
Sailing down a river of bad memories, and even good memories turn bad if enough time passes.
Jack-the-Ripper recall, slashing away at the veiled tabernacle of days.
It’s not at all like you thought it would be.
It’s an isolation ward with no nurses, no doors, narrow windows up close to the ceiling. It’s a room without furniture, a room of echoes with a highly buffed floor, soundproof from your side going out, but you can hear footsteps and murmurs coming in from the other side, from a world that no longer pays you attention.
Your hopes and dreams have been wrapped in newspaper like dead fish. Your accomplishments are heaped in the corner.
You’re not even sick, you’ve just lived too long.
Once someone loved you, but it no longer matters.