Shelved Fragments

Each fragment of you was shelved beautifully. The good ‘ol memory of us was in my “forever cherished” shelf. The times when things were good—the times when we didn’t give a damn—when it was you and me against the world. Those are the things that I remember on my good days. But when things are bad, I go to the shelf of dark things; things darker than the night. And those were the memories of us fighting; where I hold my grudge against you.

You had me at the point where I would have given the whole world to you. Why didn’t you fight for me like I did for you? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Wasn’t I enough?

So you see, it’s one of those bad days again.

In response to: Shelf


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