Haunt

the past can be the scariest thing to be set loose. unwelcome, it leaves little room for preparation to the memories that flood in uncontrollably. flashbacks bring setbacks, and momentarily i'm a few months fled. time changes again and reality strikes my inner clock. aware of my surroundings, i breathe and remember what i now have. i have you, and so i write. you to tell my feelings to, i trust that you won't run. you for comfort after the worst days, and for those to come. your tendrils of hair to run my fingers through, your hand to place my own. i write what is now; you are and there is hope for much longer. i want to keep writing.