Forget me not?

You know the people who suffered from amnesia? She envied them.. She suffered from anti-amnesia.. the inability to forget things.. the fragrances that enticed them, the stairwells they walked, the laughter they shared, the quiet possessiveness that gritted at the hearts like pumice against limestone.. the bifurcated roads they took at the end eventually.. then there was a whole new set of unforgettable things… the way their words pierced each other.. the way the importance was makeshift.. the way others were showered with care when she was let to decay like a log of wood by the river side which looked beautiful from the outside with moss mushrooms lovely colors - olive yellows deep-greens browns; so earthy and beautiful that no one realized it was rotting inside while putting up an appearance otherwise.. she wasn’t able to forget the way she missed the laughter… the warmth in that voice.. that playfulness in the words.. everything to the moon and back.. She wasn’t ready to forget things either..

She suffered from remembrance, as some suffered from forgetfulness..