If I could take every memory
The kisses that always went on way past "one more and then we have to go home,"
The laughs that hung to car windows in dense drops of dew
The frustration over you never letting me in your doors for more than a few minutes a night
The pain in the dark that cold Sunday
If I could take every memory
I'd place them in a shoebox
Sharpied "a beautiful disaster"
Each one wrapped in newspaper
And laid carefully inside
If I could take every memory
I'd walk the two miles to your house
Barefoot like you walked up that mountain
But that was September and this is January
And I'd place it on your doorstep
Because I don't want your memories
But I'd keep one in my pocket at all times
My favorite one. The one where we prayed together the first time.
And when I feel sick and nervous
And my heart is unraveling with every string being pulled
I'll reach in and burn my hand on that one last memory
And I'll remember that your love was fire
And it burned out way too fast
But still licked me nonetheless
If I could take every memory