I try to remember the good times.

They come rushing, tumbling, and crushing.

But if you look closer, you will see

They’re not that good; they’re only good to me.

It’s a strange and horrid disease.

It infects sour memories and turns them sweet.

I want to remember

Truly remember

Honestly remember

Run away from my mind filter.

I want to feel the past.

Truly feel

Honestly feel

It's a sweet yet horrid food.

Because it makes the present taste so disgusting.

It’s a horrid taste, one of a kind.

And it drives me out of my mind.

I remember you, you know.

And in my mind, you seem so perfect and so sweet.

But it's all a lie.

You’re a lie.

And it scares me to know that soon the present will become the past.

I know I will regret not savoring it.

And my meal will only get worse.