hello from a thousand miles away

the nonchalance of a fall to be,

subject to summer time exhilaration,

and that same old wrinkles etched

into the pages and pages of

a photograph yet to be forgotten.

a lazy bliss so still but

the sort of numbing, deafening

of a love to be, a love to not;

why the ivies cling, i'll never say

but the unrecognized pride that'll never die

i laugh, i laugh, i do.

rest in peace, memorandum,

and in all your pretty black & white

polaroids of vermilion sweet, i do.