Our duffle bags are filled with stained clothing.
stained memories.
The sun that burnt our pale skin so many times is now setting
with a soft sympathy.
The Ending Begun,
no mistakes existed in the circle game.
liquid flashbacks flew from our eyes and eased from our noses.
Summer had evaporated any grudges we held.
our dragon, Puff, blew magic in our hearts.
in our bags
our duffles weighed more than us and I knew why.
they held everything we had:
early morning hot chocolates
air we flew through
snow ***** that hit our frozen bodies
lips of those we kissed
hands of those we held
hair of those we braided
Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh
the mountains we Climbed
the buckets of tears in the ends
7 Groups of Shoes Thrown.
my jet plane was leaving
I knew what I was leaving behind
and what was now mine.
we weren't going home, not really.