There’s cardboard boxes by the front door
Who’d have thought I’d miss our creaky floors?
Or the oven that can’t roast a thing,
the way we sweat our way through spring,
the moments are flying by
It took three months to take our tree down
The kitchen stools would break when they went ’round
Those walls heard all our birthday songs,
The carrot cake, and bathroom mold
Where do these memories go?
I don’t wanna get good at saying “goodbye”
I’m always the first and the loudest to cry
I can’t help my heart, you see,
It just takes a hold of me
I clutch with my knuckles turned white
I’m always running,
Always running,
Out of time.
~ an ode to junior year

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