Forever ago

Past the double doors,
I skirted around the issue,
And tip – toed past the words themselves.
I ought to know now that it’s meaningless.
Though, my heart could in fact rehash old sins,
I chose to look back fondly that our years were not perfect but well.
Well enough,
That a smile sneaks it’s way over
And spreads across my face.
The scent of September lingers.
My mother wears her jean dress with the brown leather belt.
She flings open all of the windows
And each curtain can no longer hold back the shimmering sunshine.
Past the skinny streets and junk cars,
My friend and I imagined that this world was not ours.
Kneeling down and poking at the plants that grew between sidewalk cracks,
Time had eluded me.
How strange that the past itself was not horrifying – always…
Past the double doors,
I smiled faintly at the past
But kept walking on…

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