Deja Vu (Narcissus)

Now I dread when the sun sets over the trees; when the blue sky lacks light— that’s when the breeze breathes her memories upon me.

Sitting in your red Cherokee, duct tape taped to the hood. Playing all the songs we used to sing, now ruined for good.

God, I hate how I fall into the pit of my stomach, and reach for the knife between my ribs. Oh how my lungs are so greatly restricted. I feel conflicted, again.

Then my phone wakes and cries as your hands on the other side demand that it allow you to speak to me. I am reminded that time is short, and reality is only what you wrote in the cracks in my brain, between blackouts made by ink stains.

Look how the sky creates waves of nostalgia. It’s something she’s whispers in the air. “Beware, beware, beware. Something happened here, many years ago.” Is that why I’ve grown to hate the snow?

I hate when it piles on the trees, and when the world lacks color; that’s when the breeze breathes her memories upon me. Sitting in your red—

Wait. The snow is red, at my feet. I am bleeding, your blood, through my feet. Am I following the footsteps you left for me? The ones that keep me here, in your cycle of dreadful memories…

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Oh.

Look how lovely.. the sun.