Full Circle

I sit here riddled with guilt,
not for anything that I have done wrong
but for wandering into a room
that I all to well know
every nook and cranny of.

I know every line of uncaught paint,
every beam that holds it together.
I know every hole in which a picture has graced,
every outline that was left when taken down.

Steps taken forward
falters backwards
steps taken away
always finds themselves in full circle.

An empty room full of old memories
come back to life with the reminder
of something long ago passed.
Something that had never really gone away,
stuck in a crevice at best.

The center of my mind has gone astray
there are memories that never really go away.