Memories like the sandstone of our streetlights.

I see your shadowed face on summer nights,

brighter than the june bugs we crushed

in bare, fearless feet.

I love you girl, my first kiss.

On that bridge, under intermittent waters.

Coming and going with the rains, the seasons

as they change as fast as we grow further

and further away, from the fragile days.

Where your hands were mine, I can only smile.

Nails on my back, how dare they?

This is my overseer over seas.

This is my reckless night, where we ran

on the forgiving cracks between our feet.

I sware I have those days in a special place,

I can cherish those like the brightest of moments

that I'll ever achieve and grieve, where there's

nothing distinct between them. Love, your hair

like the darkest of olives on our favorite indulge.

Your veil was so secretive and seductive, you'd

liken to a deceptive clone of the same soul of an

Angel.

The nights were so warm, I cannot specify such

bliss that I'd complemented in scarce time.

Yet, our years were not wasted, not thrown down

like the darkest of droning deeds that ossified our

parting lives. Lies I sware we believed. Living

forever was a possibility. Sleeping together in

rosy, young wisdom. You'd believe my word an

instant it claimed a purport. Trust was no trouble.

I will hold in this poem your memory, that I know

will never be given any such revive, reassembly.

No reunion, remake, second chances.

I know you'll understand such a rendition.

I'm no fool, nor are you, so let's not choose.

Words like mistrust, betrayal, broken promises.

Let's not bring broken hidden hearts into insight.

My girl, I just want to remember the days that

will never end. Where the wind, and our talk

against it, and our paths intertwining in and out

of existence. I am so nauseatingly nostalgic.

Let it stay as it stands. I will always have you,

in a vein right through to my inner, most

cornered heart. I'm tired of salvaging something

for which to sing upon.

The summer is yours and mine.

The fall is ours for which to breathe upon.

The winter is our bond, warmth that we share.

The spring is all over again,

the flowers! The cosmopolitan nature.

The spring. My passion into your complexion.

I don't have words for you.

Just a reference of your transcendence above all

of the seasons, my seasons, change me.

Restore and never fixture me,

I'm free, I'm free.

The wind is our dichotomy.

My girl.