It’s worse when it happens by accident,
Stumbling across those old words
Stumbling, fumbling, mumbling.
Crying. Always fucking crying.
It’s the kind words that hurt the most –
It hurts to hate the good in your life.
I try to keep them filed away,
Lost in a myriad of sentences.
But their print remains amongst my own.
I could delete them, lose them forever
Listen to my mind and not my heart
But I’m waiting impatiently patient
For when they don’t make me cry
When I can accept the good,
And love them for what they were.
One day it won’t be an accident
When I whisper those words to myself.
One day, I will neither stumble nor cry