Perspective

there is just something about a broken heart and a knife in the back that one can't forget. 

almost as if it were a permanent scar.

the dripping blood seems to have washed away the good memories.

and the ones that remaine, do so with stains.

what about betrayal would i wish to recall:

the lingering hope of a misunderstanding

or the unfulfilled need of an explanation?

perhaps good times once transpired

you're free to reminisce 

for me, however, it is only a reminder of my blindness

my stupidity, my belief in friendship

if the good times were true, then maybe the friendship would have been as well

instead, it was easily torn apart with silence

~you can only remember the good, when there is good to remember~