sometimes it’s necessary to get rid of the old shoe boxes along with the sepia toned photographs and rubber band held stacks of folded letters stored within them. The old ballad, the old familiar places, the old desires, the tainted dreams. The image of that young familiar face so deeply engraved inside of your eyelids, in the back of your mind--and those rosy lips that once spoke to you ever so sweetly. Those rosy lips that made you tremble, took you to a height of heaven--those rosy lips that made you cry. Some things are irreplaceable, such as that one autumn night of 09’ and that one early morning phone call of some day that you’d rather leave unknown. And you may never forget, and you may always remember. And those feelings may or may not fade away. And you may just come across something better, cause you know ******* well you deserve better. And you’ll go on to live, and you’ll go on to die, and the world will spin madly on and the jigsaw puzzle will fall into place-- just as you held his hand, just as you said hello, just as you kissed goodnight, just as you walked arm in arm. There will, there was, there is, and there is not. And it may never be enough, never as that time you both lied conspicuously on the ground counting raindrops in shared silence. And it may just be pointless, and this may just be a step of defeat, and you may day after day remain clueless. You may just figure it all out. Whether it matter or it doesn't---sometimes it’s just necessary to get rid of the old shoe boxes along with the sepia toned doubts and rubber band held stack of wasted emotions stored within them.