this will not be the last time.
sirens scream your name and he's [c r y i n g]
ink stained fingertips, shy blue eyes.
an old composition notebook you'd scribble in at three am when you were fourteen-
insomniac, caffeine addicted, ugly.
relics of a life, your life
rust stained scissors. tools of her trade.
your heart throbs with disonance, bittersweet.
(w h y m e)
who am i to remember?
he had been wearing a white shirt that day.