Bombarded by the present,
I miss days under my ****** Tunes blanket
Eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch on Sunday
Watching reruns of VH1's I love the 80s.
We seem to always idealize the past.
The good in us is forever,
Evil never lasts.
I wonder about the future
And if I'd reminisce about the now.
What foggy gratitude could I have created about our situations?
All I know is, I was struggling those Sundays underneath my blanket,
But I still miss those days.
In some weird way,
I know I'm going to miss today too.