opening a trunk of memories, and i remember your wet little nose, dark eyes. everything fades away like a melting icecream cone in my hand. i miss you.
laying on the operating table, wondering where it all went wrong. butterflies in your tummy isn't always nervous puppy love, sometimes it is a scalpel trailing down your abdomen.
eternal static radio in the trunk, leaking cerebrospinal fluid while bound and draped in white gauze.
dear you & the cabin encase long memories, which happen to be my favourites.
