Last time I was here I was with you.
I wrote a poem about tasting the sky
And how it was the sweetest and bitterest thing I’d ever tasted.
But now it has been a year.
A year where I was chased up trees
And dropped down mine shafts.
And no matter where my shadows chased me
You weren’t there to catch me.
So I think I’ll remember you the way you were that night.
I’ll tuck every other memory of you away in the middle of a large book
And then I’ll give that book away to a donation shop.
I’ll let some other girl pick it up.
Some other girl too young or too delusional to realize the time bomb she is holding
I’ll keep that one perfect memory of sidewalk hugs and scratchy faces.
But all the others will be donated.
Donated and left to other girls.
And every time I come to this place I’ll think of tasting the sky
And the way I lost myself over you.
And when the sun sets, when planets I mistake for stars and stars I mistake for planets come out and shine down on that one perfect memory
I’ll wish things had been different.
But only in those golden moments.
Only our golden moment