I sometimes struggle to forget
And that can come with a price
Memories are like ghost
My breath fills the air like smoke
A signal of their approach
When I sleep
They climb into bed with me
Settling in comfortably
Evoking dreams that I see when I’m awake
I have a kind soul and a big heart
But Nonchalant
A trauma response
Thicken my skin not my heart
But as of late
Hate has been making its way in
A result
Of feeling love sweet as honey
Neglect bitter as lemons
The two I mixed, made into a drink
One sip
And my old self ceased to exist
I just wished I was warned it would be like this

Mine bloomed from the heart
A precious bouquet
That I seem to want to give away
Each pluck leaves an open wound
Eventually stitched closed by the stem that’s been left behind
Once received I watch as the petals are blown away
Like dandelion seeds
Caught up in a strong gust
Once taken, they’re never taken care of
I guess their short lifespan isn’t enough motivation
But that doesn’t stop me from cultivating
I still keep the roses in the sun where the light is
But the shade came violently and turn them violet

How ironic you’re heart shaped too
Left in the winter unattended
To cold for the attraction of on lookers
Thriving when your surroundings have died
A beacon in the silence
Although clouds smear the sunlight
I still see you from afar  
No reds from roses firstly chosen
But blue
Will you now be picked
The many among the few
Or do your silent songs go unnoticed
Until the sun brings the red back into view

Hurt more times then I’ve expressed
There are things I should’ve let go
But instead I’ve put them to bed
And let them rest in me
Cuffed to past pains
Betrayals turned to chains
That I remain shackled to
So I close
Rather then be exposed
To the world and those that still see life in me
Swatted away attempts to be rescued
As a man hurt is often my companion
Raised and swayed to think that way
But once my perspective is flipped
Failures and lessons turn to small victories
Now I see
How rewarding it can be
To live and to love
Even while hurt
Not completely healed
But still
If necessary a man should live with a hearting heart
Rather then closed one

The way you seem to exist
Freely in my mind
Thoughts of you on display
Like art in a exhibit
Memories enclosed in glass cases
It’s hard for me not to revisit
How have they been kept in such pristine condition
Who is this person
That’s marked each piece with cursive
Below a personal description
A summary of the memory
It’s the re reading that’s stopping these feelings from fleeting
I must look away
So that with each passing day
I get further away

I’m not big into people that quit
On other people
Because they think their mistakes is bigger then them
A quitter is gods worst invention
In my opinion