with our last breath
i want us to remember
all the things that we said
from january to december
i’m just kidding;
our memory is more a sieve
than a camera, filtering out
events we’d never believe
happened: stupid arguments,
we look back on and laugh at
pointless fights, conflicts
“what was the use of all that?”
but as we lay where we die
mortal bones and flesh
with our souls slowly leaving
our brain wonders: is it best
to only recall the honeyed
scenes of love and camaraderie
or to also hold on to all that
hurt and loss, part of life’s memory
the blunder to the wonder,
the pain to the pleasure
the bitter to the sweet,
trash or not, they are still my treasure