I have a loving memory.

One of innocent mindful caring that could not be.

Caring that is always shunned, burned, and left for all to see.

Barren, naked shivering in the breeze.

Our value in such a place is forever shattering never to be whole again.

Much like glass will break during an earthquake.

Do we realize that passion and love inevitable burn uncontrollably?

Is it real or just a loving memory?