It's been a slow day at work,
and I cannot stop myself,
though I know it's dangerous.
It's been so slow today at work,
and I cannot distract myself from me.
Why does it hurt so much to think about it?
Maybe because I will never get it back.
When did the memory of something so
beautiful
become so painful?
Maybe when I accepted that it was now just a date on a calendar,
An entry in a full journal.
I wrestle with the present,
searching for place and purpose
in a vacuum of memories and hopes.
Scanning through those old photo albums
elicits a deep ache from within.
Moments that can never be
forgotten
can so easily lie dormant,
can so easily be sentenced to the deep recesses of the mind.
So much that has happened,
So much that has been left behind.
Am I here today because I was there
before?
Longing to relive it,
to have known then all that I know now.
The knots form in my chest
When I think of all those
firsts:
The first time I saw him, those piercing green eyes
that captured all my affection.
The first time that we all met, laughing and crying late into
the morning hours with a bottle of gin.
The first time I left home for a summer job, away from the city
and all that I knew.
The first time that I realized things will not last forever, that
things cannot last forever.
Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I touch my reflection to
make sure that I am really here.
Am I making memories that I will want to remember?
Hopefully there will be no more slow days at work,
so I will not have to think about these things.
and I cannot stop myself,
though I know it's dangerous.
It's been so slow today at work,
and I cannot distract myself from me.
Why does it hurt so much to think about it?
Maybe because I will never get it back.
When did the memory of something so
beautiful
become so painful?
Maybe when I accepted that it was now just a date on a calendar,
An entry in a full journal.
I wrestle with the present,
searching for place and purpose
in a vacuum of memories and hopes.
Scanning through those old photo albums
elicits a deep ache from within.
Moments that can never be
forgotten
can so easily lie dormant,
can so easily be sentenced to the deep recesses of the mind.
So much that has happened,
So much that has been left behind.
Am I here today because I was there
before?
Longing to relive it,
to have known then all that I know now.
The knots form in my chest
When I think of all those
firsts:
The first time I saw him, those piercing green eyes
that captured all my affection.
The first time that we all met, laughing and crying late into
the morning hours with a bottle of gin.
The first time I left home for a summer job, away from the city
and all that I knew.
The first time that I realized things will not last forever, that
things cannot last forever.
Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I touch my reflection to
make sure that I am really here.
Am I making memories that I will want to remember?
Hopefully there will be no more slow days at work,
so I will not have to think about these things.