The Past

Staring at yet another picture, she begins to form a distorted vision

of the stories she was told and memories she should have never forgotten.

What she sees is happiness but it makes her pathetically sad.

The discarded pile only manages to remind her of death, guilt and decay;

of past emotions captured and forgotten with time.

Birthdays and vacations, full of love and togetherness

conflict with recent pains of growth and separation.

The pictures of a relationship tell the story of a bold, young and careless love

coming to a complicated climax.

Her vision blurs, but she makes out each

awkward smile or toddler's eager grin;

imprinted and stowed away in an attempt to grasp

the fleeting moment undamaged by age.

The discarded pile of the past sifted through, one by one.

Each, a false fountain of youth combatting

the impatience of time.

But the past is just the past.

An overwhelming urge to give in to her emotions overpowers her

and she has to look away from these precious moments

caught and kept safely away,

in a rotting box.