A slave to Memory(part 1)

The hardened wood underneath my nails cut into my whitened skin. My hands gripped tight onto the frame containing a most precious something.A memory. Crimson teardrops dribbled down the side of this memory. I did not squint when the pain overtook my racing adrenaline.No,I wanted it.I reveled in the sensation because this memory had hands.These hands had claws.Calloused, wrinkled like a forgotten newspaper,they stretched out the frame.Ever so gently they carressed me like curious child.They wiped the anger away from my sullen mood and scraped at my dried tears like a tiger scraping for food.Its claws dug deeper into me hoping to hit the well where my tears swam.I did not let it,not today.