Glass Ghosts

Every time I remember you
It hurts.
Like falling on a bruise.

Most days it is almost too easy
To forget.
Until I press the memory.

The pain smarts as a reminder,
Of things that once were,
And now are lost and gone.

So I sweep up the past and tidy it away.
Only pull it out when I feel ready
To face my feelings.
Yet, I am never really ready.

I could pack up the thought of you
In boxes,
And carry you just the same.

But the memory of you
Is just too heavy.