It's different every time.
I close my eyes,
I ask "what if" and "why."
As if it were nothing,
I drift through time.
Things go differently.

I hear her talk
before anyone else,
dry, like chalk,
solid, like a rock.
"Ready?" She asks.
I'm not.

Blades of grass slip,
cool and smooth,
between my fingertips.
The sun shines,
I bite my lip.

She insists with grace,
pulls me up to see another friend.
I can't remember his face,
but there was sadness,
if only a trace.

We all had it, the sickness.
that's what they called it,
the ones that stood witness.
The one's that thought themselves helpless.
They called it a sickness.

There's another boy there,
he smiles at us, I've forgotten again.
We walk together.
I cant place any of them anymore.
Even memories weather.

The atmosphere is real.
We're used to it being fake and "safe,"
so this is a big deal.
What we have, we're told,
will never heal.

I can't remember,
I hear things they've said,
the words burn like embers,
but their faces have been lost
to many Decembers.

We grip hands and head onward.
We'd be adverse to this,
after bonding though, its not awkward.
I smile,
and we head forward.

We go home.
Together.
Happy.
Safe.
Alive.

The "what if:" I stay.
The "Why:" Because we were happy.
Because it could have been amazing.
Because we were each other's childhoods.
Because we relied on each other.

My eyes shoot open,
I'm sitting, the sun is shining,
but I am alone.
I sit in a chair
looking out at the rubble of an old home.
It burned down.
When I wasn't there I lost it.
Without even being there,
I lost everything.

Because I never stay.
They're gone now,
not just from my life,
but everyone's.
I am home,
but I am alone.
I lean back in the chair.
I close my eye's.
It's different every time.