old haunts

The past is what I imagine a place of dusty shelves of old recorded books. They sit there and soon over time become forgotten. It's a recorded date of where the last breath you had with the one you loved or the one you hate. It's a recorded history of moments of over whelming bliss occurred and those moments of great sadness and great happiness. The past is an old dusty shelve that stands in my shadow. It haunts my dreams of old moments. It collects all dates and minutes I breathed in. It doesn't forget a thing. Everything is remembered, but also can be quickly forgotten. The past is haunting and loving. It remembers everything... every laugh, every tear, every smile, every goodbye, every accomplishment... it simply remembers every detail that your eyes capture.