It all started on one sunny June afternoon.  School had just gotten out, and finally, I got to go to camp. My mom was in the car waiting for me. She didn't really have to wait that long because I bolted out of the school.

The string of memories burns my hand,

My 12-year-old self can barely understand.

The balloon is purple, her favorite color,

She is my great-grandmother.

The air in the balloon is filled with every memory I remember,

Old clothes that don’t fit anymore – 

they seem like they are calling your name,  

to hold on to them, forever and more,

to be loved, to be used, to stay.  

But eventually, you must let go.

letting go is my greatest act of love to you

letting go is the bravest thing I've done in a while

my home, my rock, myself in its entirety

you've moved on now

fazed between secluded spaced and secular concepts

But letting you go? 
Letting you go is like a breath of fresh air

Letting you go felt like my color had returned just in a different shade. 
You were no longer shadowing over making it seem dark than it really was.

Standing in the parking lot of her apartment, I see my friend. She's looking down, sad, and having just as hard of a time as me. 

I keep my head down. I don't want to leave. But I also do. I know its time. 

A hot tear sears my skin as it rolls down my cheek

Before she sees I quickly wipe it away

I thought we would be forever but there she goes and here I stay

Next year, I am going to a new high school. Not the one in my town, where I know everyone, where I was destined to go since kindergarten.

I'm attending a high school two towns away, in a small town. Where I know almost no one.

It's been years since I met him

Hair like a wild horse

Eyes like the vines on my house

Heart so big it wraps around my soul

It's been years since he left

In the middle of the night under a star-filled sky