My room is like a minefield,
Every object a painful memory,
A reminder of the past.
When I try to clean it up,
I notice something that makes me stop.
I sit down with it,
And let memories flood into my mind.
Some make me feel desperately lonely,
And others remind of how happy I was.
But all of them hurt.
In a wonderful sort of way.
In my head, I want to look to the future,
But in my heart I want to never forget anything,
Stuck in the past.
What makes me more sad than memories,
Is the realization that they aren’t there anymore.
A memory is a beautiful thing while it lasts,
It’s good to let them go.