memories relapsed

explains me

Since Disney owns the MCU:

Merida is actually the daughter of Clint and Nat. The Winter Soldier kidnapped her as a baby and Hydra used her in a time travel experiment. She ended up in medieval Scotland.
Meanwhile, her parents were heartbroken. So, Fury erased their memories and told Clint that he was married to Laura and he and Nat are just friends. Only Fury and Laura know the truth.
Before Bucky goes back under, he states that he remembers Clints daughter and Clint has a memory relapse.

I know you don’t love me anymore, and I want you to know that that’s okay.
I want you to know that I’ve stopped crying over you at night.
I no longer feel like there’s a ghost in my bed, sending chills down my spine that can never be warmed by the daylight.
I want you to know that you’re not the first face that I see in the hallway.
I know you’re no longer mine to search for.
I want you to know that I can listen to our song without a relapse of memories.
Last weekend my friends and I blared it out of the car windows.
I want you to know that the first snowfall is bearable now.
I know we danced in it once, but I’m okay with dancing alone.
I want you to know that I’ve stopped being bitter.
People fall out of love, it’s okay that you did too.
I want you to know that I can love again.
I know more about love than I did before.
I want you to know that I don’t hate you for leaving me.
I know I am not what you made me think I am.
—  I learned more from heartbreak than I did from love -t.m.l
Chiaroscuro

I have arrived in thought, numerously,
to those places inside my mind, where,
light never glints and the fading corners fuse;
I always find, doors tightly shut,
windows boarded closed;
It is inconsequential,  
to debate the reasons for this obscurity,
from my own self,
for in a way everyone is concealed,
behind shells of their own making,
safe-keeping parts of them,
pure and unadulterated;

Here I have sequestered,
a lifetime away from scrutiny,
festered into relapsing memories;
I am not complete, I am best ambiguous,
Yet I am not incomplete?

Now my senses are sublimated,
induced drugged with foibles,
as I begin to furiously dig
away seeking, the shadows, with every step,
the chiaroscuro...the dance of dark and light within me
I feel myself elongate like the flame of a candle,
and curve and break into an abstraction;
Then I congeal in the hands of the nefarious incubus
who has eyes of amber;
I feel love take me in its hideous paws,
and break my wishbone-backbone insouciantly;
I become the lake, aloof, mysterious, placid…
and then just as quickly I erupt into the crashing waves of the sea,
that dab my fires and evoke a different turmoil;

I am stymied by my half-humorous perversities,
my attempts at dissecting my whole;
The inexorable irony of it,
that my fugues should be the sole reason I query,
into the dismal,
without any means possible,
to define these blurry prints permanently.


© SoulReserve 2015