Unwanted
What is the little kink...or quirk...in human nature that causes people from our past, especially those we are not fond of, to resurface and try to lay claim to our attention again? What makes them think there is some spark left that with a few simple apologies, a friendship...or more...can be rekindled and molded into something new and beautiful? Perhaps I do burn my bridges with too little regard to the fallout...perhaps my door slams with a resonance that brooks no murmur of hope in the thin arc of light that spills from under its sill...and perhaps the word "final" is too glib on my tongue. But memories are potent...it does not take much to stir their shadows, and give them wing and find them tongues...
My memory is a bitter burn this evening...one that does not wish to be bothered with the whispers of reconciliation....
My memory is a bitter burn this evening...one that does not wish to be bothered with the whispers of reconciliation....