The Art of Forgetting

There's a dark spot
that crawls inside every heartbeat
to pull me through time
that lifts me out of the rift
into eternal sunshine
to give me my ilfe back, life before truth
like a self-preservation mechanism
set off by an uncontrollable chain
of events that culminate in the shift of self
attuned to change
so once the saltiness of the tears
begin to stain my pillow
the safety switch detonates
to blot out curled up feet
summertime naughtiness and whispered intimacies
resetting the clock...

but enough.... enough now