Fall

I have leaves for memories.

They fall from my heart and I keep them between book pages,

An album of moments that I wish to forget,

But cannot bear to.

My heartstrings are the roots of my childhood. 

They made me who I am,

But they are so hidden, so deeply buried within me,

That reliving them feels like watching a stranger grow up.

They remain hidden,

And yet they keep me alive.