Memories Age Badly

memories age badly,
turning brittle like dead butterfly wings,
flowers fallen long before them,
songs packed into the dust;
but whispers swallow sound and sighs,
growing, growing every day,
what you said in my ear that night,
how long before it becomes a scream?


Quadrille: a 44 word poem
Linked to the Dverse Poets (Prompt: Whisper)

51 thoughts on “Memories Age Badly

  1. For me your poem came as a sucker punch – you have hit the spot so well and described what happened to my mum – but in the end she couldn’t whisper or scream.


  2. Love the idea of hidden memories suddenly screaming to be dealt with. A psychological phenomenon that isn’t very pleasant. Wonderful quadrille. ❀


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