My collection:
My collection: (poem) I miss the hand holding, But I don't miss the bruises left from the harm. I miss the cuddles, But not the coercion, belittling or lack of calm. I miss the company, But not the fear and tension. I miss the comforting, But not when it was intermittent or non-existent. I miss the daftness and the laughs, But not the mood changes and the scars. I miss the fun we had, But not the fun you had at my expense. I miss the connection, But you connected with everything and everyone at a fast pace. I miss the late night talks, But not the fact you never saw me as a human. I miss the love, Even if it was just an illusion. I've collected all the good parts, Put them in a box tied with a bow. I flick through them sometimes, wishing you were the person you faked to be, such a good show. I've taken all the trauma, the pain and the bad, Put them in a different box, never to be opened again, locked hard. I may miss aspects and I may hold the good we had gently, But I'