in my second dream, i am breathless because, after all this time, you haven't forgotten me. i know that you haven't, but in the dream it is beyond unforgotten. you willingly remember.

and on cloudy days when the wind blows, you consider writing a song - not about me, exactly, but a song around the edges of me. words on your lips and chords in your fingertips that never actually make it into memory or onto paper. but just something, a web of words and melody that spin into existence for an instant, born of these memories that won't disappear.

and on rainy days when the river rises, i pause somewhere near you in my mind and push myself to dwell there. it is easy to forget you but important not to, and for this reason i continue to write here. it doesn't hurt anymore, and although the scars are still deep, you know me - i was always the one who loved to sit in sad places.

and memories, i promise you, are all we have of the words, time, and life passed between us.