This was once a love poem, before it found itself lost and unstable, lying, quiet and alone, on the sand, looking to the stars for answers, and using the resonance of the waves colliding with the shore for proverbial comfort. It remembers itself happy and certain, engaged in a simple routine, a commitment. Allowing strong independence, but being heavily depended on. Laced fingers and mixed berries, green grass and loud music, it was all too hazy.  It grew wary of another’s addictive personality and insecure state of mind. It longed to be needed, not taken care of, and soon realized it had been taken for granted all along. It became aware of a twisted confidence and loss of life; a strong compulsion and a weak effort to transpose. The feeling of concern came to a demise. It now finds itself caught in a tristful temper, in a state of confusion, suddenly ready to face the world again.