The Forgotten Thorn of Perpetual Turning

The velvet rope of lifes hold on reality have come unraveled,
there will always be an empty whole where our love used to be.
Realizing too late is still realizing,
so there is hope for learning something.
The dark can be forgiving if you understand why it's so dark to begin with,
a misplaced step,
or a past not let go of.
All eventual, silent killers,
each a hazard to the existence of a genuine feeling.
Through the weeds,
a rose can grow,
and through the muck of destroying everything,
promise can be found.
The sky opens up to hide tears shed,
thunder silencing the wandering thoughts,
the peaceful sound of nothing disturbing.
Here, inside, is where things become forgotten or ignored,
like so many memories of the days that are admitted to walking away from.