real soon

memories,
stubborn lot,
why not flee,
and leave the best
of me
what's left of
the beast in me
to decide
how i feel;
why choose me
to deal
with the bulk
of this?

yet!
i catch
my self,
to self
again,
realizing how 
purposely barren
i'd be
were all of this
to be concisely,
precisely removed,
a painful extraction,
to ward off the distraction
of everything
we were
that never could be.

once gone,
i'd be just as shy,
because
i'd want
all those
stolen moments
brought back,
in all their wicked
lack of comfort,
to be placed
solidly,
in the darkness
of my heart.

stiff reminder,
yes,
chronically painful,
perhaps so--
inasmuch as i held
nothing real
took hold
which ultimately
begets to begone,
revealing
the real
kind way
to healing,
remembering
not so
to better embrace
we'll see.