The yellow, simple walls of my room wrap chaotically around my throat.

Like sandpaper, my tongue flicks across dry lips,

desperate to feel something, anything. Even a taste of blood on the chapped skin.



I've been picking my lips again, thinking about dancing to music when I was young,

and falling in love so pointlessly and obsessively over the smallest things,

like a bright gaze and a soft smile in my direction. It makes me so bitterly happy.



Do you remember when you fell in love? Do you recall

their eyes, their skin, their slow and crushing presence?



I remember when I fell in love. She was taken,

although that never stopped me from thinking about her.



I would sit on the same hill we sat that far away, perfect night; Just

to dream about the things I would never have.



Like the moonlit field in front of me, with all it's tall grass and gentle

whispering, I could feel the coldness on my skin.



The warm summer sun has been so far away, for so long, I'm afraid

when it returns, I will have to feel it forever.



At least in the end I have the memories

of your laugh, of your eyes in the dark.



I remember when I fell in love.

I also remember the year after.