here I am
desperately trying to salvage the remnants of a dream too good to be true-
of artifacts from past memories-
from the consuming fire of oblivion.
the bystanders and responders tell me to leave it behind,
to save myself from the fire,
but how could I
if parts of me are contained in those memories?
some days it feels like it’s there,
or so I think,
just like victims of injuries that have caused loss of limbs:
they still feel the limb’s presence,
even though it has long been gone.