I’ve thought of you just once this year so far, I wish that I could stop. But, if I did, I’d only then remember you again. The shock of reminiscence jars me more than the constancy of thought. So, I leave you in a single thought that cannot stop. I put myself far down, where you can’t see the movements I make towards a future unattainable from such a depth. But, knowing this, I keep digging. Distracted. That single thought pushed back against my skull. The dark down here consumes me, as it should, all I’m left is consumable and worn. The light above still bares your silhouette, and with that, the thought survives within me. The rain, at last, falls down upon my back. The darkness here complete without your light. The thought that cannot stop has reached an end. The emptiness reminds me what I’ve lost. That single twitch of memory returns. The thought that cannot stop begins again. I’ve thought of you just twice this year so far, I wish that I could stop. But, when I do I only then remember you again.
Words by Ben Carr
Constants. 31
