To Find Your Way Back

My thoughts are written down . . . read and read again . . . processed and normally discarded as quickly as they came.  Like an old love note, crumpled up in my mind . . . ripped and shredded then tossed aside before the words ever have a chance to escape my lips.  Before a lover would disapprove, the thoughts become little morsels of what I believe I want, need, desire, crave, and dropped, a sliver at a time . . . . . . . . a trail to help me find my way back, to me.