Used to Be

You love that you can still remember everything. Because it’s all you have left. The memories. The faint smell of that cologne on his police department t-shirt that you never returned. You love that you can still see him sitting on the couch, watching him watch A Walk To Remember, and recalling how it was the first time he cried in front of you – but it wouldn’t be the last.

Pinocchio’s Strings

“Lies, my dear boy, can easily be recognized. There are two kinds of them: those with short legs, and those with long noses.” – Carlo Collodi, Pinocchio

Time

I pulled out all of my old pictures this morning. Printed, not digital. Remember when we used to do that? Pick up our photos from Walgreens or Long’s or Costco. Remember the tangible? The things we could feel with both our hands and our hearts. I think I am addicted to nostalgia. So I look, knowing even the good times will hurt, too.

Fading Lights & Ferris Wheels

You tasted like beer every time you kissed me. The cheap kind, because that’s all we could afford. “I’m going to make you my wife one day.” It’s so easy to make promises of forever when you are so young. But I believed every word, listening to the waves crash in the darkness; a satiation I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. You were terrible for me, but I recall you so beautifully.

Slow Kisses and Kerosene

You are helping me find this new version of me. I let the darkness dissipate. I feel childhood again – you know, what it’s really supposed to be like. Ink-stained fingertips and chalkboard sidewalks, bed forts and belly laughs. Growing up innocent and idyllic.