Fiction, surely

To no one in particular. . Although if I could and it to this person that I say does not exist but surely does. . It would probably start a fight..therefore. this is fiction.

River. Stars..songs. words and more words.. .I lose myself in nature and books to escape the torturous reminders of my memories..you haunt them you see. And I try to ignore them. To push them far from my feelings and new life. It's old memories that hurt the most. The ones that remind of the pain. The trauma a licensed professional now has to pick at for my discomfort to "fix" what should not have been broken. But here I am. A piece of broken china that even gold can not make beautiful again. It's the reminders of your laugh...and your anger.. sometimes tears escape their prison behind my eyes and I must swipe them away quickly. But I'm never fast enough. My heart sees the wetness on my cheek and aches..then an old memory of me flinching and holding myself as I cried myself to sleep rushes to the front of my mind and so begins the reruns of my trauma. But so does another feelings of pain. Guilt..I'm reminded of I acted as well. I'm reminded of the days we once held each other close. . .and the slow descent from lovers to strangers living in the same house sharing the same name...we fought battles in our home. More against each other than anything else...I still hold the last shard of my heart closely. Bound and chained. I'll trust no one to.hold it. . .although. . .a pirate is trying. He seems to be willing to sail over treacherous seas and fight monsters just to show me what love is supposed to be.