Puddle-like Oceans

I have at times struggled with a very odd sense of wistlessness, not regret, just a sad film that covers my memories, as if I have somehow lost something by moving forward in life, by allowing the passage of time to to dull some of the glaring brightness of my experiences. The me that thinks and reasons doesn't get this, but the me that feels independently of what I think sometimes doesn't care. I wrote this poem in an attempt to put into words that odd sense of loss.

Thievery

Time is a thief
He steals my priceless moments and sticks them in a file drawer
A photo album
A storage bin
He turns first love into a memory and heartbreak into a past experience
But He leaves behind these drippings
Oceans that look like puddles until you step in them
The scorn of unfulfilled dreams
The shame of forgotten friendships
The sting of unfinished plans
Sometimes the Thief hides behind a pile of old photos
A song on the radio
A balmy breeze
Always my heart aches with the memories
Sometimes for ones I have
Sometimes for ones I never will
Sometimes for ones I wish I didn’t
It’s not that I’m not happy, I love my Present.
She’s better every day
Twice as tangible as our Future
She’ll never leave you
It’s just that sometimes my Past gets jealous and sends in his henchman, Time,

who is also a thief