The past is the hardest pill to swallow. It chokes you as you try to flush it down with cheap beer and bad house guests. It's the hands ringing your neck, whispering let go, while another loveless lover lays in your bed.  It is what longs for passion while you settle for cheap, void filling gratifaction. It's the wind to your back, calling your heart, though you choose to ignore. It is the sun and the sand where you go to feel home.  It is the only thing true. The past is what we have been.  None of that matters today. Today is brand new.