Remembering

The mind I am told is very useful.
Except when remembering.
I hate remembering,
The past

I remember it all,
Too well
As if it just occurred.

I remember,
 what shouldn’t have been.
Innocence lost

But worst of all I remember is
How he smelled — —
 Old Spice and peanut butter breath.

I despise Old Spice,
 and tolerate peanut butter.

Tagged: hurt, past, remembering

Posted in: Poetry