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.