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You called me insecure,

Because I told you we couldn't be friends.

You no longer defended me against his cruel words.

I told you, I did. 

"No second chances." 

I stand firm in my words,

"When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?"

You spoke of mistakes, things to fix, things to grow from,

Daydreaming of writing

About the stars

With beach grass blowing

Around my face and

The smell of the sea tickling

My nose, watching

New starust slicks the shingles

On the ancient roof of the shed

Where a couple of souls lie to clean

Their greying teenage bodies.

The streetlight turns off at

Half past ten,

I would let the world burn

If it meant I could see you one last time

I could let the skies collapse 

if I could press pause on time 

"It's not the person refusing to let go of the past but the past refusing to let go of the person."

i feel nostalgia brushing her cold fingers across the palms of my hands, my forehead, the back of my neck