Untitled

For some, it is simpler to erase,
to set aside things that once were
that no longer will be,
without further thought or time.

Others, who stare at the remaining pieces,
those who think upon time
Where time furthers thought
and thought again
Perhaps never quite simple,
but simple enough.

Which one of these is not like the other?
Neither one,
nor the other
share either or.

Of sadness, of memory, of pain?
Each and such are dispersed
for some and the other,
equally mounted and heaped over
Until they are intertwined as one again.

Forgotten?
Never, loss is loss,
For what means is it to gain?

For some, for others
neither way exceeds the other
But in the end, to mend,
To carry on, in what way they best can.