A Girl Named Leney

THE JOURNAL

In Remembrance

there’s a lot i’ve not forgotten. 
about those star crossed days. 
heat rising from asphalt we dance-sat-ran on. 
to and away from each other. 
beautiful, close and young.
it’s a fine line between remembering and being stuck. recalling and wallowing. recollection and depression.
it’s a line i feel as though i’ve almost-all-the-way mastered the walking of. 
almost.
i wonder if it’s even possible to all the way master a line like that. 
a line like that with a person like you.

everyone looks like someone i know from far away.