Not What’s Going On

Sometimes you encounter the past where you least expect it - between plastic chairs in the backyard and the sound of someone else's laughter. And it seems like everything ended long ago, was lived through, erased from memory, but as soon as your gaze catches on something, something warm, stubborn, and uninvited blossoms inside you again.

All the excuses you've come up with crumble like cheap ice in a glass. You want to hate, to be angry, to pretend that you don't care. But you can't. All that remains is this strange mixture of irritation and tenderness, when the past won't let you go, and you don't seem to be putting up much of a fight.