the problem with romanticizing the past

my hindsight is 20/20
but through rose colored glasses
which in a way hurts worse
a thorny realization

that you’ll never love me like that again
i won’t laugh like that again
no more stolen glances
and no more soft kisses

the roots that remain of what we were
choke out all growth
nothing new survives

only flowery memories
and barbed wire stems that
keep you away from me.