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Poetry » Song » Promise Me font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: drblueface
Fiction Rated: K - English - Poetry/General - Reviews: 1 - Published: 07-30-06 - Updated: 07-30-06 - id:2221484
(A/N: Too much to say-notes beneath poem)

Promise me

If it was nothing, or if it’s just gone now,
you can’t have back what you’ve never had.
Memory escapes you,
the experience is lost to you.
Experience you never gained.
How did we get through this,
this operating table bliss…

”Sate me! Sate me!” You’d call to the shadow
of doubt in your mind, the little corner you hid as a child.
Hope that no one finds you,
but you’ll only hear your own voice
in a place where you’re alone.
How does it feel that I’m right at your fingertip,
but you can’t scratch my surface?

The buzz that reminds you of nothing will follow you
at the back of your mind, no matter where you go.
Is it better then to live knowing that you won’t ever understand,
or is it better yet to live your life and never ever know?

Were you right in the middle, given the option,
you weren’t given an option at all.
Would you let your dreams bite?
There’s nothing left in the morning but
experience you never gained.
Will we ever get through this,
this operating table bliss…?

The buzz that reminds you of nothing will follow you
at the back of your mind, no matter where you go.
Is it better then to live knowing that you won’t ever understand,
or is it better yet to live your life and never ever know?
I feel like I’m floating through space, no gravity, no gravity.
No matter, nothing grave. It’s cold, it’s hot,
and if I can’t remember, then I shouldn’t care.
Please don’t let me forget.
Cut me open with a kiss,
I want to feel our operation table bliss.

Every broken bone, every false alarm, every dollar that you earned.
Every snapped guitar string, every pill you’ve taken, every time you crash and burn…
Every golden sunset glow,
every first of winter snow,
every time you’re scorned or praised,
up ‘til four AM half crazed…
Every time you touched her face and asked if she could stay…
if it means nothing tomorrow, then it means nothing to day…

I feel like I’m hanging on to dandelions, floating away.
Insubstantial, nothing grounded. Hot, it’s cold,
and if I can’t remember, then I shouldn’t care.
Please don’t let me forget.
Promise me, promise me this,
you won’t let me forget…


(...Based on a question I was asked yesterday-You're about to go in for surgery, and you're approached with an option. You can A) Be put to sleep for the entire surgery, or you can B) be awake under anesthetic and see the entire proceedure-only to be given a pill to make you forget afterwards immediately. Either way, you remember nothing.
If not for the forgetting, I would choose B) without hesitation. But to know that I knew something, but could never recall it would be too tantalizing for me to consider. I would be tortured if I knew I could never know what it was I saw.)



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