Sometimes I still open my box of memories,
Only to remember the __ you sent me.
All its good, bad and crazy, ____
still lives __in that ___.
I still__ about you every time,
When my mind rests and returns to_.
Your__and what we did last time,
Forever cannot be undermined.
Ages ago the mind would tell me, "Forget it,"
"Why do you still want to think about_?"

But the more I paint over the hole in the painting in my mind,
I keep getting reminded the hole was there.
Maybe this painting, this __ , is meant to exist,
Meant to be remembered. We may feel __ about it,
But it will always be a part of us.

We may change it, amend it, try to paint over it,
But it always stays there, the original remains a scar.
However it doesn't feel like a scar anymore if you just change
The way you see it.