Used To

I never could understand what you used to tell me,
About what you used to think and what you used to feel,
Simply because I never considered things from your point of view,
Or your feelings about certain things and certain times;

I am starting to do so right this moment –
But I’m afraid it is a little too late for all these now,
Where it’s all said and done and what’s left
Are little shredded pieces of memories and times past;

I don’t know – maybe some things cannot be recovered,
Where time is like a land which never can be reclaimed,
Something lost to the echoes of the walls in the room
Like the memories that play in the recesses of your mind;

You’ll never know when the future stops and the past replays,
Or where the present lies in the labyrinth of space and time,
And so I suppose all that you can do is
To attempt to pick up the pieces and put together a broken picture;

It used to be perfect.

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