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Writer's pictureAanya Srivastava

When You Became a Memory


I sit still,

staring into the quiet,

and try to pull your face

from the fog that’s swallowed it whole.


I close my eyes,

searching for the sound of your voice,

but it’s slipping—

like the last few notes of a song

fading into silence.

How can something I once heard

every day

become so distant?


I try to conjure your smile,

but it’s blurry now,

like a photo left too long in the sun.

I tell myself I haven’t forgotten.

I can’t.

But the more I reach for you,

the further you fall

into the corners of my mind

where the light is too dim to see clearly.


There was a time

when your laughter could fill a room,

and now I sit in that same room,

listening to the echoes,

wondering how I could lose

something I never thought I’d have to hold onto so tightly.


Some days,

I ache to remember.

Other days,

I’m terrified that I will.

And in between,

I live with the fear

that one day I’ll forget you completely,

that you’ll be just a feeling,

a warmth,

a weight I carry

but can no longer name.


I want to keep you,

whole and sharp in my mind,

but you are already fading,

softening around the edges,

like the dusk creeping over the day.

And all I have left

are the moments I didn’t know

I would one day have to fight so hard to keep.


Written: 2024

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