how could words ever describe the sickening feeling of my surprise when moments with you became routine and all it took was gasoline to a spot up the canyon with the stars in view and looks that feel like deja vu what should I think now that our rendezvous has begun to fall through you're always close by but I'm wondering why we keeping fading and I keep feeling like I'm wading through emotions that you won't let come true.
the sound of my dad’s guitar playing his favorite chords the typing of my mom’s fingers going through family records the smell of the ceramics studio full of the kiln, dust and glaze the running home
it’s the little things they always say like how you listen more than you ever have before or how you stopped opening my car door like how you squeeze me tighter in our hugs or how you don’t answer me
I cant remember the last photo i took maybe it was a mountain maybe my niece maybe myself maybe you looking away no matter what it was it’s the last thing my lense has seen which means it means everyt