My Memories of You

I have suppressed my memories of you
As well as all my childhood, so what's left
Is bits and pieces of a life, bereft
Of meaning, continuity, or glue.
When people speak, I don't know what is true
And what is simply wild thoughts without heft,
Detritus, injury, and outright theft.
Let's pray for answers now. Pull up a pew.

I know that when we met I wasn't clear
About love, passion, and catastrophe:
They all appeared identical to me,
So telling friendliness apart from fear
Became impossible. You have my ear,
But not my trust again. Just let that be.