Fresh with a new perspective and an outlook about myself . Take a walk down memory lane.
Can you remember all the moments we shared?
It almost trapped me there for a moment in time I’d like to replay. The first moments I laid eyes on you a story I painted with my own brush .
A muse I compared you to be .
Reality proved to be the dosage I needed to bring me back . I couldn’t seem to paint over the jagged edges of the picture I’d soon finish .
Not noticing the fresh scent of tears rushing down her eyes. Imperfectly fabricating love for a moment to capture for my heart to choose .
I learned to walk away when I needed to .
And I may have done so in a way that took a piece of me that remains within my muse. I took the dignity last left to grab because I could not see my own art .