my history's in a box, wrapped up in a pretty blue light.

Those were our days.

But these, these are our streets. The dizzying height of our memories makes my head spin, but at least the memories are still here.

These are our songs, the ones we sang to one another and the ones that made us write our stories more beautifully than before.

This is our work; you, visible in every inch of it. I didn't want you to go, but now I wish I could erase your presence that still lingers in very part of my existence.

I have to go now, or I'll be late for whatever is next.

But I am here.