The memories feel like walking into spiderwebs
I try to shake them off but I still feel them linger
Beautiful and intricate but broken by my touch
No one thinks about the spiders that get displaced
When we waltz into their invisible silky homes
They'll never weave a web identical to what was lost
I wonder if they sit in their new webs sometimes
Dwelling on the ones they've lost
The same way I'm stuck in the memories
Like I'm caught in the ruins of their losses
And I wish I could feel like the fire in your hearth
But I know I'm the wind that blows it out

Just like the broom that clears the cobwebs