Memories

Memories 

they haunt me down

in wakeful hours 

in sleep.

Figments of the past 

they play

the rise up from the deep.

Midnight 

then they come

as dreams,

mixed up with fantasies.

Confusingly true

but they're nothing at all,

nothing but fallacies.

If only you knew 

how much it hurts

these unyielding 

memories

the good and the bad

the sweet and the sad

the worst of all maladies.

"Memories" by E.Y