We all take refuge in the past for our memory clouds the unnecessary, for our memory exhibits the greatest, the everlasting senses of times once had. We hold onto images like a wallet: for the present is a dark alley way with strangers in which we cannot trust. The strangers will ask you questions…
He’s making her happy,
while you push her away.
You’re giving her silence,
he knows what to say.
What will you do,
if he steals her heart?
How will you cope,
when you are apart?
The silence she’s receiving,
is what will hurt her the most.
She’s your girl,
you’re meant to show…
(Source: typicalstephypoetry)



