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i remember roaming the haunted halls.

i remember walking the silent yellow line.

i remember vomit on my tuxedo.

i remember hitting concrete the first day.

i remember watching her walk.

i remember the rock crushing my fingers.

i remember realizing it was permanent.

i remember her leaving the room.

i remember breathing.

i remember awakening and seeing the tree.

i remember him saying "theres nothing like taking the first scoop of ice cream."

i remember my cigarette falling to the ground in slow motion.

i remember seeing the final letter.

i remember saying "fuck you" as i got off the school bus.

i remember hearing the album all night long.

i remember seeing charcoal on her teeth.

i remember recognizing the muse.

i remember the first time they arrived at my door.

i remember saying goodbye.

i remember the firefighter telling me the house was burning.

i remember the turtle surviving.

i remember wondering why.

i remember my grandmother's eyes.

i remember losing the blanket.

i remember the throttle of eight pistons.

i remember the warmth of her lips.

i remember the pond reaching our door.

i remember the carbonation.

i remember the shoebox in the backyard.

i remember the sound of descending footsteps.

i remember the loaf of bread.

i remember the smell of cedar ash on my clothes.

i remember the sound of six plates.

i remember the cop saying "you need to leave."

i remember her kissing my cheek in a triangle.

i remember guinness at the brazen head.

i remember saline tears.

i remember waiting to open the envelope.

i remember time refusing to cooperate.

i remember the colors of dawn.



our footsteps like folklore.

our actions like sand.

our acoustics like vinyl.

our paths like hands.