When the ashes settle, perhaps you won't remember all the bad times. You won't really think of the mess he left you or the disappointment. You'll recall the beautiful times. Like kissing on the Farris wheel and holding hands because you're fear of heights (you didn't really have a fear of heights). You'll remember the small times. Like a corny saying he always said. Or maybe the way his eyes looked when he talked about his favorite sport (or his once, favorite girl). And they won't be 'little things' they'll be hurricanes. Theses memories will be natural disasters in the most beautiful of ways. Memories are so magical. They affect you in so many ways. And it's funny how we tuck the unhappy memories in the back of our mind. As if we're trying to save ourselves from the 'natural disaster'. Almost as though we're forced to see the best in people. But just like everything, memories are both good and bad.

r/l

it's 10:18pm and my heart aches a little for your touch. it aches a lot for your touch, actually. it shrivels up in a ball and goes in the corner of my hollow chest and buries itself in sadness. it misses you, maybe even more than I do. after you left, you see, my heart and I have yet to be on good terms. we fight. we fight a lot. we fight about stupid things like starting up a conversation with you. stupid things like crying and letting it out and toughening it out. stupid things like that. now, this is not a midnight jumble of words but it could easily be that if it were midnight. now, I do hope you're happy and your heart and yourself are on good terms. I certainly do hope so.

I hate leaving home on days like these:
when I can hear your ghost in the kitchen
washing the same dish 6 times because
you won’t be able to sleep with ketchup
staining your second favorite dish in the
cupboard.

You told me that if you were a tree you
would want to be a maple, because in
Autumn they leave red finger prints on
sidewalks like ****** clues left behind
at the scene of the crime.

I hate leaving home on days like these:
when I see your ghost sitting on top of
the cushioned window seat so you can
count the rain droplets running across
the glass outside, one finger tracing a
path or water and one finger twisting
your hair again and again.

I told you that if I was a tree I would be
a willow, my arms reaching down to the
ground you stood on, roots reaching out
for the sidewalks you walked on, trunk
reaching up to the clouds you loved
more than you loved me.

I hate leaving home on days like these:
when I am a willow constantly weeping.

I wish every day would last forever,
like they seem to in the summer.
With nothing to do
but dwell in your thoughts
and bask in loneliness.

Human contact is annoyingly necessary
and sometimes
I wish I could escape it.
I'd like to be alone,
away from judgements,
just me and my thoughts.
Just me and my wants, hopes, dreams, desires,
sifting and floating in my eyes
and in my mind.

I see them quite clearly now,
only the thin fog of time clouds my view,
making them seem like an illusion.
Why do I wish for the future
with such anxiety
and at the same time,
long for the past?

Everything is temporary.
That thought has been headlining
every corner of my ideas
and hopefulness.
Everything is temporary,
everything is an illusion
just waiting to dissolve into the past
wanting me to miss it
and yearn for it back.

Everything ends the same.
Why worry about a broken window
a ripped page,
a battered heart,
when everything will end up fixed,
or in the trash,
or healed and scarred over.

Everything ends up in the past
and the things you once looked forward to
with such fear and excitement
become irrelevant.

If material possessions aren't important,
then what is?
Possessions are all we have.
We possess cars, computers, phones, clothes,
books, money,
knowledge.
Everything we know, feel, do,
are revolved around what we possess.
What more is there?

Even love is a possession.
You hold it, you keep it,
you cherish it,
and it's painful to part with it.

Everything in life is temporary,
nothing can cause joy
without eventually
causing pain.

Nothing gold can stay.