over the sea to skye

it’s funny how the things you miss are always the same-the list just grows longer.

sitting on the beach, side by side, both of us wrapped in her jackets, our hearts so different but our souls the same.

that feeling of relief as I pulled open the doors, after walking three flights, and collapsed on the sofa, my home.

bass lake, during any season, during them all.

sinking to the ground mid-day, my back sliding down our locker and having that one hour, just an hour, of laughter and ranting.


time heals all wounds they say. But they’re wrong. Because how could time heal the holes it made?  


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