Another door opened,
What was open shut,
A new begining , or so it seemed
But is there ever such a thing?
A clean slate or is it blank?
Having lived a moment, how can you forget?
There has to be some memory of it, or of
The reason why you chose to forget.
But then, is it truly forgotten?
Is it really a bygone?
Why then, do we try and forget our past?
When what I lived, I loved,
Even if it was for the moment,
Although it was right only then.
Do I say the past haunts me
And destroy the only remembrance held?
Do I deny myself, the treasure of those moments felt?
But, if I do, how then will I say,
I lived.
