Memory Stains

He stains the edges of my memory
Guilefully creeping in towards the center
His presence allows my thoughts to turn
To a disconsolate love from years not so long past
Varying states of numbness
Extend fibrous tentacles throughout my mind
Seeking to squelch leftover feelings
That linger for the hope of rekindling
Enervated from their persistent, annoying presence
I strive to saturate my days with other thoughts
Desperately seeking to avoid the silence
For that is when I turn to our memories
And that is when I turn to him
Allowing the pain of our separation
To fill my soul with overwhelming grief
A grief that cannot be alleviated
By anything other than the sound of his voice
Or the sight of his disarmingly handsome face
So tired and bored of this game, I am
Yet I am victim to its timeless allure
Even after swearing it off for lengthy periods
'Obsession' is too kind of a word to term
The condition that has manifested itself
Within the deepest bowels of my soul

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