Shoved in a box in the farthest recesses of her mind
in a moment of frustration and regret. Now
recovered and remembered-faded snapshots
of the misty mornings together with sunlight
and joylight shining in your eyes; crisp
clear images of first best loves and tears.
Each memory a photograph imprinted
on your mind forever-replaying them is like
watching Gone With The Wind over and over-
too painful to bear but beautiful
in a morbidly tragic sort of way.
When he was lost to you forever,
did you relieve your last together in your mind?
Playing nightly photo reels of the days
you shared, before the loss set in like a storm.
To replay memories like faded
fragmented melodies, remembering
last best loves and living
in the past-loving the gone-bye days
which are no more-retreating, retreating,
sliding backwards because
the present is bare, the future
unknown-turn your face away
from the loss you face today-
In the past there is no loss,
for you cannot lose what
you do not possess and cannot grasp-
in the past is no pain-the past
is safer than the present, she muses.
Retreat into the attic to
leaf through old photos endlessly
reliving the days when he
was here with you
until the faded song
fades too long and you are left
with whispers of tears
and promises long since
disappeared.
Black-and-white nostalgia is bare but beautiful
Memories playing a record while you sleep
