My Name Is Memory

"A poem is but a thought, a mere memory caught at play. From hand onto paper, bleeding thoughts emerge."

Where were you, and Who am I.
Catching moments passing by.

Buried deep, yet a sight away.
A song evokes another day.

Little things, like what you wore,
All of this and more I store.

Holding love, and loss: identity.
Feed me well, but cautiously.

Mark this day 'save', and this 'forget'.
Season nothing with regret.

As the moment comes again,
the time returns: another when.

Yet swear by me not, for I deceive,
Colored by what you want to believe.

So we dance together and you try to lead.
Held in check, I accede.

But today I held the upper hand,
Not quite under your command...