Through Rose Colored Glasses
I am a prisoner of memories from the past,
Flashbacks without warning of a marriage that did not last.
Through rose colored glasses, I see a love now scattered to the wind,
But in reality he had ceased to be a husband, a lover, or even a friend.
Memories lie and make you think your life together was ideal,
They invade the heart, but are like ghosts, and are not real.
It’s time to take off the rose colored glasses, and leave the past behind,
Memories make bad bed fellows, and do not give peace of mind.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
