Take me back
to the tattered pages of your books
where gray roses grew.
Take me back
to the school grounds where
we used to break all the rules,
to the unmarked graves
of the promises we no longer said
after we had broken them
one
by
one,
and to the road trips
where you felt like
winter dipped in sadness
and I,
a love song flung
to the summer sun.

Take me back to where
we drowned in the coldest mornings,
to where the sunrise looked like
magic spells cast
by the daybreaks in our eyes.
Take me back to the seas where
we built castles on the horizon
and waited for
the sun to sink.
Take me back to the spring-break bars
where the poems melted on our skin,
to the darkest hallways
where cigarettes almost looked like stars,
and to the broken beds
where we kissed
and kissed
and kissed
for a while
and said forever.
Forever.

Take me back to where that word ended, darling.
Take me back to us —
or at least take me away.
Take me far
far away,

so that I may forget our places,
so that I may forget we were ever there,
so that I may forget they were ever ours,
and that love was ever ours
and that we
were ever ours.