The worst memories are the cleanest,
Visited so regularly no dust collects,
No spiders crawl in to spin their webs.

The walls are yellowed with smoke,
And the table's water damaged with rings,
From all the hours spent there pondering.

The worst memories are the cleanest,
Organized daily to keep them clear,
Polished and treated like a shrine.

The curtains are heavy and allow no light,
The air is heavy and tastes like the sea,
Once you're there it's hard to leave.

As children we planted seeds,
Scattering them willingly.
Watering them everyday,
They bloomed effervescently.

We watched the wild flowers grow.
The flowers grew, as did we.
Thorny weeds killed our flowers,
And ignored our soil’s plea.

As years passed we grew apart,
The flowers left to wither.
We both planted timid seeds;
New soil in different weather.

We both found our way back home,
Back to our lifeless flowers.
We nurtured and watered them,
Watching them bloom with power.

And the clouds echoed his name
As they came pouring down in the form of rain.
They dripped down upon her face
And kissed her tears away.

She caught her breath and released a woeful sigh.
As she began to realise..
That even in death, he refuses to let her suffer
And end her life.