make me cry.
Longing for another time.
A time distantly past,
just out of reach.
Pull at my memory,
sticking pins in my
already slowing heart.
Remembering when love
was present.
A time when life was neon
orange or yellow or green.
No amount of reaching
can bring it back.
My hand is outstretched,
but it's buried too deep.
Nothing will transport me
to that one summer,
when I was happy.
You can never return
to a moment
when you were truly
happy.
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