Sisyphus | Poems that Suck

I am assembling a chain,
 you see.
No matter if its fine
 and as
insubstantial as air.

Each moment builds on
 the next,
a determined effort to
 move forward,
to forget you.

This link? I'll forget the
 exact blue
of your eyes, the 
 next the
smell of your skin.

With each link you'll
 fade into
a hazy recollection until
 you become
just another number,

another face in the
 crowd of 
the countless who have
 gone to
die in the crowded room
 (of my heart).

The irony, of course
 is that
each loop is crafted
  with the 
very thing I wish to forget.

And as I try to 
 forget you
I inevitably remember you;
 the blue
fire of your kiss.

It's then that the
 chain shatters
in my hands, forcing me
  to rebuild 
it over and over again

only to rupture in
 my hands
once more, tormenting
 me to
madness.