The Painful Process of Forgetting

I must release the hold that I have on the balloons of my past,
Each balloon -- soaring up into the sky --
is another friend I have lost to pointless drama.

I close my eyes,
dreading the truth,
hoping that maybe -- just maybe --
this is all just a figment of my mind.

Yet when I blink back my tears,
and my sight returns,
I see the world bright and clear --
It's true and real --
I have lost, and I must let go.

The delicate strings slip out of my hands,
and the balloons soar away into the deep sky.

If you love something,
set it free.

If it comes back,
then it was always yours --
but if it does not,
then it was never meant to be.

I'm letting go with dreads of what the future holds ---
a future without you,
a future without old friends.

I'm packing my past into a box,
storing it away in the very back,
in a room with a lock.

I won't dare look back,
Fearing that if I caught one last glimpse,
I would never want to let it go.

With nothing but the clothes on my back,
I hike away,
far away from this hideous past.

Moments turned to seconds; seconds turned to minutes.
Minutes turned to hours; hours turned to days.
Days turned to weeks; weeks turned to months,
and when I thought it couldn't get worse,
these months turned to years.

It's taken forever,
just to let you go.

The process is long and difficult,
Taking every memory of you,
and erasing it from mind.

Were my memories all lies?

Were any of them real?

Slowly releasing my hold
on memories of you.

Painfully forgetting
the laughter that we shared.

Yet I'm always dreadfully remembering
as I sit alone to think.