Remembering/Forgetting - Olive Murray

Silence, like a long, cold bastion with cannons rigged to fire,
sits heavy in my mouth as I watch the night flicker on and off
overhead. The winter air chills my skin, but I stay here, on this
bus bench that looks out over the street lining the walk to my
house and think to myself I never thought I would still be 
alive. I would like to forget; like to shed the ilk that waves
camouflaged flags colored like those of surrender but really
mean to start a war again. I would like to forget remembering
and start over; a hard reset, a rewiring of misfiring neurons that,
collectively, buzz discordantly and forget to turn off when the
lights do. If I could remember how to forget, I would; I would
forget his hands on me, like a merciful avalanche which, in
peace, could free me from the prison that is my mind or the
death from bullet fragments, not wounds. I would like to recall
how to forget whispered names and swears that seek to avenge me,
ones that don't end when I sleep, that rage through nightmares
like a tired machine. I would like my heart to stop beating,
sometimes. And by no means do I want to die: I am simply
tired of remembering that which I need to forget. I have forgotten
the sound of his voice, and the way his clothes fell as he lost weight.
I have forgotten the feeling of his hair like whips against my face,
or how his fists curled when ire filled his lungs, which were
always already filled with smoke. But yet I remember the way my
name moved off his tongue when angry, the feeling of his hand
on my throat, the way his rigid palm fell heavy against my chest,
which, laid bare at his urging, surged hot and desperate with
inconsistencies to numerous to name. I cannot forget his face, or
how it looked when he was sad; I still feel pangs of fear that
remind me of the pangs of fear I felt with him. I still feel pangs of
fear that remind me of him. I still feel like I remember him. I still
feel him.

There is an exhaustiveness about me. A quiet moonbeam shudder
that keeps me from falling asleep before midnight. I can't breathe but
to think - to think is what stays my eyes and keeps me awake. I just
want rest. I want nightmares no more. I want to forget. I would like
to forget remembering and just start over - myself, no more.