Memory Fuses and Shatters Like Glass

You Might Have Laughed If I Told You

Tendrils of memory grab at me late at night.

Looking for something.

Something to cling to.

Driving past places that once were important.

Places that you haunt still.

Places. And memories.

Clinging. And looking to climb.

This is the way things happen these days.

Tendrils reaching. Always. Always reaching.