I am forever searching
for the ones I’m grateful to have lost

rose tinted glasses that make
peasant lovers look like kings

the swirl of the past
distorting my memories of heartache
and broken promises

into jewels of truth and the safety
of the crook of your arm

but I must shed these glasses,
swim against the current of these whirlpools

if I am ever to keep hold of myself
if I am ever to move on from
bitter words and anger
into a new chapter of trust and sensitivity