I get away from here, away from all this noise of people. Their lawn mowers and cars and explosions. I go to where the only noise is the birds, the trains, the moon.
Here I sleep for hours, dream vivid dreams, my mind drilling deep. Mining forgotten memories and bringing them to the surface shiny like coal. For years I didn’t remember you, for years I’ve buried you under marijuana and alcohol and internet porn. But here you are, smiling and handing me a piece of gum.
Holding hands and kissing cheeks just before we drop to the ground. Every day I think of you. But you’re only a voice on a telephone far far away. Bright and cheerful you say hello and ask me to leave a message you’ll never answer.
When I return I find the screens torn out and the windows smashed in, all the drawers turned upside down. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had anything to steal.
Prayer flags, once bright and colorful, waving in the backyard. Fading to white under the sun and rain and wind. Showing me how to go on without you. Teaching me that everything under the sun eventually fades to nothing.