Our past is sometimes
better left alone, abandoned.
Wrap it, tie it snugly in a bow
if you must, then toss it out
as if flicking a burned up
cigarette out a car window.
Why would one back track
to look for something, that
is considered useless, stale.
I do not care to relive, rethink
of all the maybes I left behind.
It would be less painful to me
for someone to pluck my eye
from it’s socket, then shove
it back into place, rather than
dredge up old times, bad times.
Times that mark my youth
spent being the adult, responsible.
He had all the experience of years,
yet, it was I who swiftly aged,
moving toward a feeling of old.
Your memories are yours, locked
inside your certificate hanging,
while you write feverishly, long,
drawn out notes, trying to analyze
the essence of my very being.
Perhaps it isn’t the path leading
me here that should be walked
over, but how I jogged here
today, and what I plan to do now.
@ donetta sifford 11-25-2013
Written for: Trifecta Week 105