once trust is broken
or a secret being told
it ceases to exist
in the form
it once held
like capturing
the breeze
in a jar
there is no chance
of retaining intent
when i was a child
i tried to keep a snowball
to see winter in summer
but all that remained
was a chunk of ice
a page read
cannot be unread
as there always lingers
an echo of before
to burn in disappointment
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One time I was talking to a man I love with all my heart. We were having this deep discussion when he slipped and called me by another woman’s name. It hurt me so bad that I immediately was like, I gotta go. Words that can never be taken back, now when we talk, I have that memory in the back of my mind. It can’t unhear it…. like your pages that can’t be unread line.
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I’m sorry Tara.
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Eh. Story of my life 🤷🏼♀️
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Gosh your pieces are all so fantastic. The image of trying to keep a snowball to see winter in summer is everything!
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thanks Harley.
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