Old low burning flames
memories under the bed
like pieces of an old game
at night, fast asleep
they blister in your head.
Upon waking, you weep.
pictures of a love lost
broken glass
beneath your feet.
Regrets flash by
on your mind screen
you still pay the cost
but you’re stuck in now
lost…forever it seems.
How can that old love
still make you cry?
Was it a nightmare
or was it a dream?
Is the past ever gone
is it ever wiped clean?
Wake up, clear your mind
push old passions away
get on with your life
because today will be
the past…someday.
by Jeanne Marie
Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie 