Seven Years

I put the car in park, sitting there for thirty seconds too long. I let the stereo overwhelm me as I question it all once again — Sunday night, and I find myself wondering if those stars are far too distant in the rearview mirror now.

My world fades to black as I chase the dreams that hid away, quiet underneath the blanket of my younger years. I wish it was seven years ago – for how beautiful seventeen had been.

That town had been mine, in a way that is all but lost to me these days, and I had built my moments upon every boulevard in Southwood Lakes.

I still paint that same picture in the frame of my mind — the one where you and I sat on that bird’s nest swing in Lake Como Park. Your green eyes lit up my Friday nights in ways that you could never understand. How sweet our hearts had been, how innocent those city lights had seemed.

I guess I lost you to suburbia, for I let go of the only vestige of love I’ve felt for a ticket into the land of palm trees and Instagram models.

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