Thursday, August 8, 2013


I left your jersey in my hotel room. I couldn't take it with me and I couldn't give it back. So I left it. I draped it over a chair and no, I didn't take a picture.

Funny thing about memory... it turns into what you want it to if you don't have a photo to look at days and months and years later.

I don't want to remember your tragic face and darting eyes. And I don't want to remember anything you said.

The feeling of your hand on my back? The way you spoke into my neck, just behind my ear? Those things I'll keep because they were the candy coating to a pretty crap-filled time in my life.

Find peace, Nebraska boy. 

No comments: