Fond Memories.

At first, it's ok to brush it off, pretend that it had never happened. The wound is fresh and all you want to do is to forget. Everything about the scar is despised: its colour, its story and its becoming. Self-hatred for letting it happen and hatred towards the one who did this to you. You want to move on and start over.

Then one day, after all's forgotten, you wake up and wonder what happened? The anger has died down. The scar taught a lesson. What about him? Does he remember? Has he forgotten too? Does his scar pain him as much? Memories begin to flood your mind. Somehow, they are the good ones: the first glance, the first arguement, the first smile, the first touch. What happened is in the past; it should be cherished. Thinking about the good times in the past has made you treasure what you have now even more. You have forgiven the scar.

"Bittersweet memories, that is all I'm taking with me. "