A Collection Of Short Stories

Good Old Days

I remember those good old days when you would grab my hand and cuddle up to me.

But now here we are, all broken and sad, why can't we go back to the good old days?

I remember how I once fell out of a tree. You climbed right down to kiss my bruises and wipe my tears away.

But now you stand above me, bottle of beer in your hand, and instead of kissing my bruises you hit me one more time.

I remember the kind words you whispered into my ears, making me shiver and smile.

But now all I hear are words that leave scars on my already broke heart, making me weep from sunrise to sunset.

I remember when you told me you would protect me. Protect me from harm. Protect me from the world. Protect me from anything.

But now I don't need to be protected by you. I need to be protected from you.

Why? Why can't we go back to the good old days where we were so happy? I want the good old days back, before it's too late. And I will forever remain hopeful that the good old days will return before I'm laying six feet underground.