The Memorial Of A First Love

I depart through a crimson door with a golden handle into the mist
The minute, his deep and earthy voice echoes across the room
The here and now dissolves into memories and dreams I thought that I had buried
But my mind never let it go,
Opting to keep my first scar,
The symbol of sweet loved turned into bitter regret
Now I am falling like a monarch butterfly that has got too close to the sun
Into an old body, into a familiar face,
Beyond the mist, I tumble into the unforgiving dark
Into a glass box, replaying our past,
As if an old TV were playing the same VHS tape
The same ending over and over again
A memorial of my trust and innocence.