To make each day more forgotten than the last,
Needs tears at least to help with the severity of each loss,
The thankless task of memory needs clever alteration,
Deliberate douses of medicinal grapes and horticultural fortitude.
No love is too great to be drowned from the fruit of these vines,
No company too good to be placed aside disarmingly,
No forlorn habit too ingrained to be forbidden by these spirits,
No drudgery that these immaculate drugs cannot cure.
The great purifier of the soul, the metaphysical carwash,
The acidic bath of absolution, the alkaline of all ill,
Baptise me again, dear potion of amnesia,
My tear ducts simply cannot clear this misery -