Blank stones
Cast out
Sun stroked
Another day at the mall.

My old crush
Always
Knew how to reserve
What was working
For them in secrecy.

Then,
I remember a little breakfast
Where brushstrokes became
Preservations of my present self's
Musings; to live in the past
Is to live in love

As a court jester with

Oneself as King.

Memory,
Recollections,
Do-tells that make
And weigh
The present self

Yet imagine,
How much of a **** you'd be,

If you never held.

Imagine
Existing
In the
Unbeing at the cost of

Never seeing your

First best

Friend

Again.

I couldn't do it,

Dear Hayes.