poetry #2 (no title)

Are you fine with that?
The more memory you make,
The more memory you will forget.

You may be happy now,
Tomorrow, a few weeks hence,
or years later,
But there come will a time
A memory that lingers,
At the tip of your tongue:

a certain melody,
to a music you've always love,
a certain taste,
to a food you've always ate,
a certain scent,
to a perfume you've always admire,
a certain word,
to a line, a poetry or a dialogue you adore,
a certain love one,
to a time you thought you could never forget...

It will always be there,
Waiting for that right ignition,
But you won't remember.
You've forgotten.