Constant

Sometimes we don’t want to rid ourselves of pain,
Because it is the last link we have to an experience
We do not want to forget.

Sometimes we are afraid to let ourselves be happy,
Because feeling pain is much easier,
Than maintaining happiness.
Or you're worried it’ll never last.

Sometimes we have to watch a friend turn into a stranger,
For better or for worse.
But we hold ourselves in pain, to allow the
Person to be reminded, that they meant something
To you. Not just a memory fleeting
past.

Sometimes we hold onto stories we can’t tell anymore.
Because so much more is said
In what is left unsaid.
And we are all trying to forget someone, our Unsaid.

Sometimes, we find ourselves wanting to say so much more,
But saying so little. Even, remaining
Silent.

Sometimes we feel there is no point in telling
Anyone what is happening inside us,
Out of the fear of being called obsessive.

But I am nothing, in my soul,
If not obsessive.