Lamented memories find shelter within the walls of my skull, their plastic wrapping chafing my brain.
Planted like conifers rooted deep within,
Its needles extending outwards in bursts of omnidirectional reminders of what I no longer possess.
I covet the past,
The way things were.
I move forward with each sequential sunrise
Yet the past remains,
Completely unscathed by focus
And hidden in plain sight.
I can’t go back.
Even if I could the events would occur all the same
And i’d be twice as hurt as I am now.
What do you do
When you’re faced with everything you had
And all the frivolous nothings you have
Only to be left with the latter?