Recall if Possible

Laying on a great heap,

of my past seven years,

are pieces of wrinkled paper,

that carry words old and dear.

But, I seem to have forgotten,

contents of them, they're lost,

so before I even toss them,

I open one of them and read across.

Such familiar lines and apologies,

that ring a noticeable longing,

they stir the once-dead memories,

into a pyre that now starts burning.

This was you, this was me,

in a past where 'we' meant all,

where simple letters, sentences be,

a means to keep us in control,

Of all the mixed emotions,

stirring, flaying through the soul,

as love, became a staple,

what binded two halves, into a whole.

But, I remember so much more,

than rainbows, and loving undertones,

I recall each painful letter formed,

into screaming hurts, insults thrown.

Where I wished that silence,

would be the saving grace for us,

as the crumbling foundation quickened,

leading my heart broken, into rust.

And I begged I did, you know it,

each tear a letter tied behind them,

scoring volumes of 'sorry's with,

a voice tired, wheezing, growing thin.

Yet, through the sobbing and despair,

somehow, time put that behind bars,

made from numbness and acceptance,

reaching each night sky star.

Eons passed and I had soon come,

to find myself become anew,

where each of these forgotten letters,

remind me little of even you.

Where they just call for a lost,

and void member of what was once me,

for as these letters had been forgotten,

in the fire before me, they will be.