Long Way Home

Forgettable

Why can't I just stop

remembering?

All I ever see now

is a face

that hates me

with every smiling

photograph.

A face that doesn't want

to see me.

Elation due to something

that has absolutely nothing

to do with me.

I am no longer a part of the picture.

I am forgotten and

I am unwanted.

For so long

I held myself in too high of a regard.

I was memorable and

I was wanted.

But I was deceived,

quite literally,

because that truth has paled.

I am forgettable and

I am hateable.

Right now

that is all that matters.

Even if it isn't always true.