it slipped my mind.

Like a pin drop of silence, or the drop of a single drip in a quaint pool

day one.

Rolling over sweaty sheets, wrestling with prophetic dreams

Awoken with eyelids bolting open, a clear gasp as though newly resuscitated

Stiff confusion and a dull, aching, empty void null with confusion.

day two.

Checking emails, checking paint brushes, checking paints

One, two, three, spam, trash, me, a dash of rich phthalo green

Painting of sincerity, gardens of lavishing clarity

Woken again by a heart attack.

day three.

Cinematic masterpieces inside bleak dreams where I can't open doors

I can't see her face, I'm too scared, is this what it means to avoid hurting her?

When reality sets in, my fingers trace my ribs; I wonder if one's broken.

day four.

Bags beneath rolling eyes, hollow stomach, and bitter minds

A mouth that used to speak so much is rarely open but to drink sorrowsome tears

Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Boy. Solitary confinement for self reflective destruction.

"Oh it just...slipped my mind."

The words slip out with a shrug.

If I'm burdensome, tell me before I spit out my sorrow with you.

day five.

It's been five days now. I guess it just...slipped my mind.