Tattered memory,

Implanted, rooted,

Deep within the vault,

It springs forward,

Pressing to be beheld.

And I can't place my finger

On it. The way it makes me

Shudder. Shapes seen,

Lines traced. But picture

Not formed. Lingering

There but not wholly.

Should I be emotional?

This aimless feeling,

Familiar but on the edge

Of collapsing forgotten.

It's on the tip of my tongue.

Words dragged out

To nothing. Bothered

By this faded thought.