a broken down home,
a thousand letters never sent packed in boxes.
Memories engraved in the back of her head,
never to go erased,
remembered everyday
and cherished every moment.
They're all the old woman has left,
those very short moments.
Those tooken for granted things,
the people never to be forgotten.
The time where the old lady had nothing to fear,
nothing to lose,
and no reason to care.
All the little things,
she thought she'd suffer consequences for a little while,
not a full fifty years later.
She'd been told by many that eventually she'd get over him,
yet here she is, still frozen numb by the pain he inflicted so many years ago.
Things he'd probably forgotten about,
just like the other things he probably forgotten.
She didn't forget a thing.
Not one moment she didnt remember,
instead she relived the days with him in her head,
over and over everyday,
for fifty years.
All because of the simple little words that boy said.
The words she'd never forget.
The sentences she should have burned out of her head.
Poor old woman never moved on from that boy.
For that boy was the perfect man for her,
and when he took his life with that knife he took another life with him.
He took the life of a girl who cared for him too much.
And if only the people would let her,
the shell that once held the naive girl would die too.
So now the old woman sits,
in her broken home alone,
remembering the moments,
and waiting for her death...
