Wasteland Ghost

There is a wasteland,

a forsaken place

where nobody lives,

a place that

nobody

wants to remember.

It dangles in space --

"somewhere" to me,

"nowhere" to others.

Everything in it

has lost all meaning,

even the loveliest things,

because nobody wanted them

anymore.

But these things --

some were mine.

If I want them again,

do they come alive with meaning?

Or, because others despise them,

do they remain meaningless, futile --

proof only of my

nothingness?

Without Memory,

vast tundra of things past,

I would not be who I am.

And yet,
does this same Memory, so unwanted by others,

now render me

invisible?