NOTES AND PHOTOGRAPHS.
Spilled across my bed, slips of paper cover the bright quilt
knit so many winters ago by gnarled loving hands.
Rising gently from the mayhem of memories, our entwined scent covers me,
Evoking unwanted glimpses of the past.
Through a mist of tears I run my fingers gently over the notes and photographs,
Little bits of me and you, reminders of a foolhardy young love.
I smile as I turn to the empty space beside me.
Surrounded by the things we treasured most, I can imagine you besides me,
Holding my hand and speaking of our dreams and hopes for the future.
My past was harsh, surrounded by hurt and sorrow. But it was held wisdom,
Which has paved my future with joy and contentment.
Slowly I gather up the pieces of you and me, cradling them close.
But as I put them back in the box, I know it was meant to be.
My future has yet to be set in stone, and there is much more to it
Than a boy and his beautiful lies. I have bought my wisdom with pain and tears,
But it holds more power than anything else.
Spilled across my bed, slips of paper cover the bright quilt
knit so many winters ago by gnarled loving hands.
Rising gently from the mayhem of memories, our entwined scent covers me,
Evoking unwanted glimpses of the past.
Through a mist of tears I run my fingers gently over the notes and photographs,
Little bits of me and you, reminders of a foolhardy young love.
I smile as I turn to the empty space beside me.
Surrounded by the things we treasured most, I can imagine you besides me,
Holding my hand and speaking of our dreams and hopes for the future.
My past was harsh, surrounded by hurt and sorrow. But it was held wisdom,
Which has paved my future with joy and contentment.
Slowly I gather up the pieces of you and me, cradling them close.
But as I put them back in the box, I know it was meant to be.
My future has yet to be set in stone, and there is much more to it
Than a boy and his beautiful lies. I have bought my wisdom with pain and tears,
But it holds more power than anything else.
