As the weeks tick by, your legs begin to buckle, the air gets thicker and it becomes harder to swallow. Tip toeing the exhausted and blind state between lucidity and reality, your mind does awful but wonderful things. The images flicker brightly with a depth like slides put into a projector and you could swear it was just yesterday that you were laying in the grass next to them. Or the time when we parked the car a little further down the road that morning.
If I had a choice, I’d burn it. I’d burn them all.