Sadly,
my memories of 
you are all tied up
in knots...
I never learned 
how to clean up 
my own messes.
I'm nearing 22,
facing decisions
hearbreaks,
and all of the 
impossible dreams
that reality has 
never been strong
enough to 
kill.
And sometimes I think
it's to spite you
that I've come so far,
that its to annoy you
that I keep laughing...
You killed my joy
that summer,
while simultaneously
broadening,
enriching,
my horizons.
You added a different 
color to my sunsets,
and now that you're gone
I can no longer
see the blues...