I'll remember you as you were.
Innocent; out against the bluest of blue.
Where the sky hangs low,
on the veil of green lands.
I'll think of you.
From time to time.
With a soft thought,
and a gentle smile.
A fond memory,
To get me through
this storm.
However,
I'd cut off my own hand,
before I ever reach for you again.
For you are the thorns
on a red, red rose.
The gleaming needle waiting
to be threaded.
The nefarious laced poison
dipped in candy.
I wouldn't dare reach for you.
Because the pain may fade,
But the scars you left,
Will always be the same.
I rather remember you in fondness,
Than you as a black heartless.
Call it a botched memory.
I'll call it 'trying to get by'.