The Good Times

I remember
everything, so that's a problem
when it
comes to forgetting.
I remember
the good times,
the bad times.
most of them skewed by
the adrenaline
of infatuation. hardly one
thing
true, there are
no absolutes.
we romanticize the past.
make up
our own version of
stories to fit
the mood, placate our
sadness or grief,
or emotional
confusion.
what we thought was love,
forever,
well, it never lasts,
we alter our memories,
smooth out the rough patches,
say remember when,
then we smile,
we laugh.
no one is who you think
they are.
but once you find out
the ugly truth,
keep walking, forget it,
and don't look back.