You know those moments when at the time, you thought you were doing fine – thought that the arms which held you were strong, the alcohol you drank, ciggs you smoked, the late nights, the no sleep, the incessant natter, the lies he told, the hurt you suffered, the way you looked in your dismal reflection – were all okay? But then you look back and with ‘hindsight’ you understand that your were ill, or simply very wrong, perhaps very ill and very wrong!
Memories; The moth eaten rags
of a dead beat soul.
Regrets; The broken wings
of a blood scorched heart.
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