A thousand snapshots, too many for a single box
So many inanimate objects
now cursed, blessed.

Millions of songs, flavors and colors,
ruined now,
perpetually attached to you

As I am

Soaked to the skin
Covered in memories deeper than any flood could
leave behind







"What kind of heart doesn't look back,
At the comfortable glow from the porch,
the one I will still call yours? "
- Sara Bareilles


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