Texture of Forgetfulness: A New Poem by Me

Texture of forgetfulnessSlips away from my fingers
I don't even remember how it felt
Probably it was like sand or silkOr like a young woman's curvesOr like nothingness Or like feathers of a dead sparrow
Texture of forgetfulness is like daylightInside which we can see everything clearly
For instance when I am on my bikeI don't see the vacant spaces between vehiclesThe spaces which would be vacantAnd those which are already vacant
Texture of forgetfulness Is like the eyesLimpid and sharp In their absenceI don't even see What I am not seeingEven the invisibility Is invisible to me
Texture of forgetfulness is like a poemWe have forgotten to write We don't even remember what it wasAnd how it wentOr where it went
I dream of touching forgetfulnessWhich is full like a cup of teaOr empty like the forgotten sea
I smell the texture of forgetfulness
It smells the touch of mother's sarisBefore she went away to sleepOr dad's trousersWhen he used to take me out for Bruce Lee movies
I listen to the texture of forgetfulnessIt sounds like the music of the forgotten sonWhich you can't even replay in your heads
Texture of forgetfulness grows like a cobweb On a winter afternoon
I feel like a lazy spiderSpinning the web of my forgetfulnessTrying to trap some unknown buzzing wordsWhich I don't even know They exist.
19 December 20102.55 pm