Aborted Womb of Memories

 

The skin is tight, plump, 

no creases, no lines

no dark shadows.

The years went by

it stood steadfast

as semblance of eternity-

never fading

never shrinking

distant but constant,

a presence

felt than seen

I have been

living in the cusp- 

at the dusk 

of the days 

long set,

holding against the night.

And thus,

a new day was never born

from the aborted womb 

of memories.