Dear Nostalgia.
            It's official, I've bitten my nails to the core and they've done their share of bleeding. I held my breath, and watched the clock, letting time pass, floating there; lifeless. And, I'm burning up in four layers of clothing in the middle of hot, humid Spring. Spring. Ever so clearly chewing at my neck and cracking at my bones. It all feels like it did, two years ago. Two years when we held hands and danced on corpses beneath us; the graveyard, our burial. It was the most beautiful place we came upon, our vent, our audience. Snaps and claps, moans and groans, we danced until our knees flew forward and our feet gave in to the screams of under-low zombies, complaining of the ruckus above their silhouettes heads. Crazy teenagers, we were; laughing at dirt that came with the wind, even if it hit us straight in the face or blinded our eyes. We were kids. Still too young to know the difference between love and wisdom. Contagious to anxiety, infested with stupidity; two souls, who, from different heart's and dignity, came to one. Arm in arm, chin to chin, voice by voice.

            I said I respected your choices in life, you said you supported my aspects. We had views, different and alike. I spilled myself, you confessed. Our opinions were one, just as our body came to play. But, you laughed at the image you once knew, a girl, clumsy and fragile. And, in return I laughed in the face of an image I once called "friend", a boy, lost and distant, who laughed back and appointed names. So, I waved "goodbye" one night, and with stuffed pockets, walked to the cozy fire we'd burn sheets of diaries on. I sunk to the floor, watching auburn flames fade and squirm, knowing I, too, could be thrown like paper, and then I let you. Against the wall, I fell face-to-face, and our conversation wasn't the loveliest, but arguments didn't come easy either. I chewed my nails, and the words choked in a place you'd poke with a feather when I'd fall asleep in the woods. You laughed, and criticism became you're new name, which you wore dearly. From your chest, I could see an sentiment; you loved, but all you showed was wanting to be loved.

            And, then we drifted.

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