Old Film

I want you, but can't have you. You're farther than my dreams. I try to grab and reach you, but then it leaves you displeased. I try to tell you how I feel, but to be shuned into a corner, where a box of film is left uncovered. I look through it several times, then put it into the projector, but to only remember why I left ya. You used to hit me till I bled, forced unnecessary action. Then you dumped me in the cold, with a reaction of satisfaction. I find my way back, but to only be locked out, from family, friends, even my own house. These memories will never leave me, my mind is like old film. I'll just take them out the box, and go through them again.