Every life has a library
where memories are shelved.

Bubbly birthdays lined the racks
Right beside
  Grandma’s alluring chicken soup

From adolescent angst
to zoetic zygosis 
Each memory is recorded

First step
First kiss
  First love
All stacked primly like a congested cinema.

Some moments...
A toddler’s gummy, fumbly, first words
The hail of square caps on graduation
Your heart’s marathon at the front of the altar
...are carefully attached to the ledges
to be within the mind’s full fledged
  embrace.

But under the gloomy glow of banker lights
Lurks a ghastly trunk
  With benumbed padlocks
  And bleak hinges

Not to be opened or searched,
Its contents are vile beyond depiction
Burying the brightest hopes
Drowning the most potent passions
It bears the name:

Disappointment.

Ink in water,
Sand in the wind,
It’ll spread and consume the library
leaving behind nothing but
blurred and charred figures,
Products of the inferno feast

Every once in awhile…
when the road ahead is obscured
  and that divine crystal staircase
comes to a grinding
halt,

The trunk unlocks

With its enveloping shadow,
The contents flood the
library with darkness
Making memories illegible,

Forgotten.

Life then becomes a rope with no knot
feazings on both ends,

slowly unraveling.

Then, the forest becomes as tall
As it is far
  As it is wide
   As it is deep.

Then,
You will be lost,
trying to find meanings
to the memories’ blank pages.