Memories often seem happier when we think back to them, memories of a better time. But is it really better? Can we misremember the equal amounts of bitter and sweet?
First try at writing anything in a long time. Hope it gives someone a jumping point or some inspiration. I will probably add to it when my muse gets back.
Looking back through rosy glasses,
It was all a romantic drug induced scene
not trodden down with flickers of false memory
which I tell myself: That never happened, surely.
Hiding from the moments of darkness
that threaten my carefully constructed
pseudo post-nontrauma. Those dark moments
were my delusions, and not the rosy reality.