Its nights like tonight that I waste, walking down streets that are no longer my home and waiting outside of a house that is no longer yours. I've spent the past few months looking for a place to rest my tired legs, sore from the burdens they've carried and they always lead me here. I may never find you again, but the thought of you is home. It is the only certainty I have, for we were not a product of genetics or predisposition; we were a perfect sum of you and I. No variables. No lies. No doubt. Simply the gaze of your eyes locked on mine, waiting for a beautiful awakening we cheated ourselves out of. A seemingly endless summer that we were sure would tumble into an endless autumn erupted in a cacophonous explosion, leaving you and I forever splintered and fractured. There were no explanations or conclusions; only shrapnel left in every breath of air in this town, serving as a constant reminder of what was and could have been, but isn't. I stand now, teetering at the edge of another moment my entire life has amounted to, waiting for the ghost of you; some remnant of a memory lost in the folds and folds of it all where you and I slumbered side by side, comatose in a gorgeous thicket of dreams. Youth spent on young hearts bursting at the seams with the naive certainty of forever and wasted nonetheless.