#Day 322: All Sorts Of Memories

The city lights haunt my dreams, I still remember those moments when we sat on the promenade and ate cold muffins..drank that chilly root beer. Those summer nights will always remain my favorite ghosts.
The rain poured and the clouds growled. Despite all the noise in my head, I will never forget the comfort of early mornings and your coffee. Bitter, black, sweet, foamy, but always hot. The warmth of life.
Our footsteps could be traced, deep into the wilderness..the fields of flowers..the graspings of childhood and the fragrance of dying spring. Our hands held picked flowers, and our crowns wore beauty.

Every memory we make is bitter sweet. Every story we write is a piece of us we give a face.
Every lie is a truth we hesitate to tell, every truth an act of love.


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