There are some who’d rather not have what the path of least resistance would foolishly protect them from having. — Patrick The Poet



Sometimes memories seem like seashells on a beach,
Lonely little gems of happiness from the past.
And what the sand has kept buried and out of reach.
The fear of ever opening your heart at last.

For there are moments when paradise almost came,
When once you felt the courage to give love a chance.
But all you can feel now is what time cannot name…
Seashores and seashells and what sorrow calls romance.

Oh, how they make you remember the past again
And all the happiness you grieved and failed to live.
And yes, the person you once were and could have been.
And all the happiness that love wanted to give.


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