There was never a memory
I could not fit into my pocket.
I collected them like rocks on a beach,
leaving footprints and taking stones.
I wasn’t prepared for the day
when that pocket would get a hole in it;
that when I reached in to reminisce
on smooth cool memories
I would find only jagged rocks
that cannot or have not
had the chance to be worn down by sand and time.
Sometimes I will forget
what is in that pocket,
and in a moment of doubt I’ll go to hold those stones tight
coming up with only cuts on my palms.
There are memories and rocks
that I can’t put in my pocket,
that I need to keep  in my hand,
to remind myself of another time
and another place.
But my fingers can only stretch so far
and can only hold so much.
It is impossible to keep just the good
Things will fall,
lost to the waves spreading themselves out against the shore.
Sometimes, you’ll find a new stone that fits
more perfectly in your grasp than the last.
Don’t be afraid to move on.
And leave things behind.
Take the smooth with the jagged.
See the scars written across your skin as lessons and stories.
And remember
to leave footprints.