Alyx Chérifa Taounza-Jeminet

When you took the page out the diary came a name.
We won't remember. I sure already forgot.

No shame in the torn mountainscape left by regrets. There. Closed diary, long sleeves hiding the pain away.
When you come back, I'll have an abyss to fill you with.

Memories are all in stasis. In-between our moments. Of joy, and pain. I only remember the valley between our tears, the trough of our waves. Where is this name, now, have you forgotten yet?

I wanted it all to burn through my skin.
Always burdened by the memory yet not inscribed.

Sometimes there is aching, all of it. Sometimes the soft finger running along a line draws a story on my skin. Words threaded to shroud me. Bring me to peace.

The torn pages. Now become. They allow us to rest, cover our eyes.

I cannot read your name anymore.
I miss remembering.