I sold my memories today, each one tearing into the sky, going to where dreams lay under the ocean where ships pass them by. I sold them to a man who spoke of home; he was a lot older than me, but he reminded me of you. He reminded me of your hair and your eyes that never failed to see; your words that would tear my mind and pick me apart. He reminded me of the grass and the happy green, imprinted backs and the silence from the trees around. He reminded me of the ocean washing upon the shore, the way the moon reflects on the boats as they drive homeward. He reminded me of the busy street, the way the cars would see us walking, the way we used to sing songs and become careless. He reminded me of you and my heart, the way we would look at each other- the same way one looks into the dark for a light. He was a lot older than me, but he reminded me of you.