Ryden~Memories

He was the congregation's vagrant with an unrequited love, when your passion's exaltation, then finding refuge is not enough.

She was the youngest of the family, and the last to be let go when they decided they would try and make it on their own.

Another day of trying to write when the well of ideas was running dry.  Brendon's grasp on the pencil tightened, his hand cramping, and put the tip back to the paper.

Oh Memories, where'd you go?  You were all I've ever known.  How I miss yesterday, and how I let it fade away.

When July became December, their affection fought the cold, but they couldn't quite remember what inspired them to go.

And it was beautifully depressing, like a streetcar named Desire.  They were fighting for their love that had started growing tired.

Brendon sighed, dropping his head.  His hand was hurting, and it was a miracle that the paper beneath him wasn't torn from all of his erasing.  He picked his head up, surprised that his hand wasn't broken, and began writing again.

When the money lost momentum and the bills were piling high, then the smile had finally faded from the apple of their eye.  They were young and independent, and they thought they had it planned.  Should've known right from the start, you can't predict the end.

He brushed the tears from his eyes before they could fall to the paper.  God, this song was difficult to write.  He was trying to push the pain down, trying to fight the emotions he felt deep within, trying to keep from bursting out into tears.  Brendon missed him, and he knew this song was a horrible idea.  It brought back the memories, the laughter, the joy, the love, and with it, the pain.  That wretched, overwhelming, damned pain that he couldn't fight and always consumed him.  He had left, when Brendon needed him most, and quite frankly, Brendon never got over it.  It hurts, having someone you love ignore and abandon you; that word is used too much, pain, but it's the only word for it.