The bags seem to have turned to scars under my eyes. Shadows of my soul.

Why can't there just be someone here to make everything all better and assure me everything's going to be alright?

It's because everything isn't alright. There things we could of done that we haven't. We could have saved ourselves but we didn't.

. . .I didn't.

So, I hang myself up in obsessions and confessions, alone, watching cars drive by.

While I watch cigarette smoke drift out my window, I think of how it could have been, how better this place would be. . .

. . .if only I had remembered.

If only I remembered that obsession just rips open the sutures over my heart, this could be so much better.

I will never forget.

I will never forget.

I will never forget.

I will never forget.

I will never forget.

There isn't enough time.