It's a fable now, of a forgotten town. Whispering goodbye to every belligerent blue that must have wasted you. Two was too many yet twenty was already plenty. When had we subscribed to the idea that love was a construct only to be destroyed by the vices we employed? I feel like a child, innocent and praying to God in a church pew as if He could stop and rewind to that one time our fingers intertwined and I felt truly fine. It's all a fable now, of a forgotten town.