A choice made as I rode in cars with demons, which in their haunting, offered sense.
From the moment I looked in his direction, I knew he was the sun.
I was yours. You were wrong to never see that. To never claim it.
I want to find you when you sleep. Reach through your dreams and wrap my arms around your waist.
Drawn to a boy who I knew, far down in the soul of me, was too far to grab and pull close enough to swallow.
A memory is often skewed
black-balled, but powdered blue.
Forgiving is one part forgetting and three parts letting go.