Nostalgia hits like a brick at times like this
As the corners of the night air begin to chill
As leaves begin to decay
It’s when I think to myself
“It was this time last year”
The edge of summer we called it
Was filled with unabashed youth and regret
With stagnation hidden under the guise of freedom
The places we’d go
And the things we’d do
I will always remember as they were  

The town where we walked through the cemetery and looked at the stars in the tennis courts
The woods where we jumped into the mucky lake in our clothes before singing together in the back of the truck
The train tracks where he bumped my hip when I tried to put a flower in his hair and we accidentally wore matching jackets
The special spot with trees and the lake where he taught me how to skip stones and his laugh when I just couldn’t figure out how to do it

I was high off the butterflies he’d give me in my stomach
and the free-spirited group I associated with gave me a rush
It didn’t last long and for the better
In hindsight they were just trying to live in the way they thought they should
But despite all of this, and despite the acceptance I have for this time in my life
I can’t help but think of them, and him, when this time of year hits