12.1.17 | the realization

I have to stop returning to what has broken me.
I have become a girl so hopelessly in love with the past
that I forget how different the present is.
My mind rushes past me and blurs out
the flaws and discomfort.
I forget that I haven't had a change of
heart and never will.
The nostalgia is never right
and I need to stop listening to it.
Two weeks from now there will be no
late nights spent seated in a car
with tangible memories.
There will be no bruises leaving a trail
of breadcrumbs.
There will be no encounter with the big bad wolf
that I had innocently painted.
It wasn't a fairytale,
it was a horror story.
The pages turned,
the tale became brighter,
and I have no more room
for terror in this novel
I am continuously writing.
Note to self: do not look back,
you already know the ending.