She holds on:
Her scrapbook, filled
With pictures of her past.
In name, she has left them behind.
But in reality, they remain.
All, her lovers, echoes of a painful past.
She hurts, remembering
The once-delicate feel of their touch;
Now they are gone,
As much at fault for their heartlessness
As they are victims of her attention.
They, her past, forgetting,
Remembered,
Forgotten.

James Grengs

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/echoes-6/