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The Boy with the Sunshine Face came back today.
He was never really missing, he just needed a break.
And in the few days he was gone I realized how much I love him.
How much I love his hands on my back
and his laugh in my ears.

God knows his parents were worried
and they don't know I could have told them
where he was staying.
But I missed his face just as much as they did.
And no one should be forced to be somewhere
if it's killing them.
Even if that place is home,
with those who love them.

But now he is back but I still haven't seen him.
Except for last night, in my dream.
He was sitting on a bench by the school,
but he was different. His face didn't
have that smile I have grown so accustomed to loving.
Hiss words didn't have the same ring to them.
And when I kissed his face he didn't kiss mine back.

This is all just some weird front my brain is putting up
because I'm sure he's the same he always has been,
just a little more tired.
Still,
I miss The Boy with the Sunshine Face.
I made a mistake and even Daski can't help.
The combination of it all makes me sick,
the revelation, the lack of cigarettes
and the fact that I unintentionally opened up our old Facebook chat.
And I read the last message you sent and every single one before that.
-
"blame it on the tetons"
has become my anthem
for all the nights
i need to discard
into my laundry basket
for a fresh start
in the morning.
-
regression
unwinds
repression
and sands away
the spool's grooves
which eat at twine
like moths eat light;
and underneath,
i found a summer -- thirteen,
before i discovered sea wolf,
before i knew i wasn't meant for marathons.
the two-by-fours
we carved into a cabin
for smoking pipe tobacco
and living in the mountains
are now muddied
and strewn over the hill
with so many shotgun shells
and ceramic victims in tow;
are now collected
by sassed out teenagers
finding fuel to feed
cancer with smoke
and smoke with memory --
which they will regurgitate
to build their cabin
to smoke pipe tobacco
to live in the mountains,

until it burns down
as all things must.
The cigarette burns aren't fading
only become less painful and more scabbed over.
When I first saw her, I was happy, please understand.
I saw her entering the cafe from my position opposite the door.
Brett Shady was playing the center of the room but my attention was not on him, not entirely.
She and her boyfriend took the only standing room still available in the far corner.
I'm not sure if she saw me but I think she did.
I think she kissed her boyfriend after she first saw me, which is fine.
I would have done the same, had our rolls been reversed.
After a few more songs I could no longer bear it. I stepped
outside.
I walked two blocks up the rode from the cafe to Bonanza Market.
I bought a pack of cigarettes and walked even further up the hill.
There, I found my favorite spot, one which I had found with a dear friend.
There is a swing hanging under a big tree, surrounded by flowers.
I must have went through half the pack before deciding to move on.
I figured I'd catch the rest of the show from the door.
Walking back however, something caught my eye.
A play was just beginning at the Nevada Theatre and I heard it was semi decent.
I snuck in through the side as I had done many times before and took my seat.
On stage, performing a small girl was another girl who I had kissed.
Who I loved.
When I first saw her I think she saw me too.
I looked down feeling a tear in my eye.
When I looked up I was sure.
She was looking at me with a sort of pleasant smile on my face.
As if she'd known what I was feeling.
The regret, the sadness, the longing.
All these things came rushing up inside me so quickly that I had to leave.
I again went to my favorite spot and finished the pack, saving a few cigarettes for that night.
Oh God, how I would need them.
I walked back to maybe see the end of Brett Shady's set. The show was over however.
Walking out was a friend of mine who I had not spoken to in a while. I waved her down and we began talking. About what I remember not. But it took my mind off things.

A while after a girl I had onced kissed and had once kissed me walked out of the cafe with her boyfriend.
She smiled at the friend I was with, not sparing me a glance.
My friend turned to me
"How could you let her go, Nolan? Why would you let her go?''
I turned my back to her and began walking.
Two or maybe three ours later I arrived home, all my tears shed.
I didn't sleep that night.
The face of the girl and her boyfriend came flooding into my dreams as the tears had off my face.
The face of the ******* stage came flooding into my mind as the nicotine had done my blood.
Regret was sharing my bed that night.
Whispering in my ear accusingly "How could you have let her go?"
Pain was in my room that night.
Roughly fondling my heart as if it were a stone.
Sadness was kissing my mouth that night.
Only allowing whimpers to come out.
Somewhere silent
We’ll wonder where the miles went
Somewhat quiet
Wanton mental dialect
Will be forgotten as it’s thought

Somewhere silent
While finding love to dissect
Somehow quiet
We’ll live with love so violent
And pray it never be forgot
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