In the *nooks and crannies of passenger seats. In the books I've read too many times. In the scent in the air after you left. In the Pink Floyd t-shirt. In the links of metal I only have memories of. In the silver moonlight hitting caramel skin. In the school books I've scribbled my name in. In the memories of those I no longer speak to. In the mind of my parents, who still think I'm their little girl. In the movie I watch every week. In the candles I blow out before I sleep. In the songs I'd keep on repeat for hours. In the anywhere from 15 to 50 minute showers. In the nights I stayed up, listening to the rain. In the days I woke up, feeling a little less sane. In the summer romances. In the fact I've never had a slow dance. In the first good kiss I ever had. In the scars I harbor, inside and out. In the last time I felt right. In the things I fear. In the way things changed, in just a year. In the first poems I wrote. In the first time I could soak up the beach, alone.
This is what I am. This is what made me what- no - who, I am.