Written in my head are stories of memories of us and what we used to be. What we represented. Flash backs of words I can’t form. Sentences I can’t build. Stories I can’t explain. Feelings I can’t expose nor express. Jumbled.
Memories I am confused about. Whether to open them up again or close them forever. Shut out love altogether. Mayhem. Love, I am afraid to give. Because the last time I gave it, it was taken away from me instead. The loss.
Am I worthy to give it again anyway? Who’s worthy to trust again anyway? People out there trashing what’s real all day. Living and giving deceit all way.
Streets I don’t want to revisit but somewhat I find comfort when I remember them and then the pain when the best parts come to play. A sweet pain. Ironic!