When you left this town
You were kind enough to leave little pieces of yourself
As to remind me of who you once were.
Like splinters from picnics long forgotten,
They stick around for a little bit
Just to say that
Maybe the past
Just a little better.
But time has a habit
Of moving forward and forward.
Will move on.
One day, I’ll remember this city as
A catalyst to nostalgia.
To this place,
I will never