@Chamomile 14 September 2020 more from that month

Flint Of Memory

How can I forget a ghost of you as if you were a dehydrated umbilical cord preserved in a frame commemorating my birth. A perspective of parallel strings between Law of Attraction and Superstition when I turned one, you're a small cut of my hair swathed in scented paper nesting in a random page of dictionary. You're my first birthday, blowing candles of miracles of birth and slicing cake of milestone, the moment I existed in this world. You were atoms in my old memory yet a potion of uncertainty for I couldn't help but embrace sorts of evidence like monochrome grayscale of my candid smile. You were petals of red roses in a small brass casket where time weakened its fragrance. **You're a part of my growth; I am made up of a cluster of stars rising at your sunset. You are a part of me but my mind in unconscious of your existence though my heart keeps on searching for you.**