Turning papers,
looking for traces.
The ink may have stained the memories,
but none-the-less,
the familiar feeling,
seems to have been lost.

The scribbled sentences,
seem so remorseful.
Misspelled words,
useless grammar.
Where was my mind back then?

Set upon a stupid boy,
I, for so long, lusted over.

Love was a word,
we threw around like hugs.
Affection was nothing,
at least not compared to what I'm feeling now.

I remember mentioning,
a boy with eyes so blue.
But now I long for those deep brown.
Boy, I long for you.

These memories are senseless.
They don't reflect you.
My mirrors back then were fogged,
and cracked,
but none-the-less they taught me,
precious self-values,
I'll remember until my dying breath.

I feel your arm around me,
bringing me back to reality.
How is it that you're no where near me,
and your presence still taunts me so?

I close the book,
with memory flooded pages,
A disturbed dear diary.

I'll remember the days,
that brought me to these.

I'll remember the people,
that introduced me to you.

I'll remember to remember,
the insight of the after life.
Knowing tomorrows only as good,
only as good as we make it .