Forgetting

Some memories I feel.
Their shadows crawl up like spiders
webbing their way across my skin
welling up in my stomach
sending swarms of butterflies
with wings so sharp they cut
making me bleed from the inside.
These memories
I want to forget.

I want to forget my childhood.
I want to forget moth balls in mirrored closets
bubbles and butterfly clips,
“I love yous” followed by endless lists of ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’
I want to forget not wanting to eat
Not wanting to sing too loudly, or dance too wildly
or be too much.
I want to forget being forced into dresses and stockings
but being banned from nail polish and pearl earrings.
I want to forget
muted arguments and loud silences.
I want to forget stiff, stifling hugs.

I want to forget songs about socks
poems about chickens.
I want to strip myself of all the things I cannot forget
the unsaid words that fill my mouth like cotton.
the unreleased screams that echo and ricochet inside my head
I want to forget whispered, unfulfilled promises,
soft strums along my arm,
butterfly kisses against my ribs
I want to forget unwanted silences
half assed apologies
absent presences and lingering indifference

I want to forget the all encompassing familiarity
of bundled sheets and hugs in fetal positions
of snot, tear filled mouchoirs
I want to forget poems written on paper napkins.
I want to forget watching them melt away.
I want to forget dreams about train lines
and jumping.
Cutting for therapy
Hair, not skin,
because hair grows back and nobody has to know

I want to forget
I want to forget all of it