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All I really had left were my memories of you.
One thing I remembered was how we used to chase the ice cream truck + buy orange creamsicles. We would walk home in the firey summer sunsets, + the orange would run down our fingers + ratty converse.
We debated random things that didn't matter, like if cheesesteaks + hotdogs were sandwiches, or how to pronounce certain words.
Our discussions could have lasted for hours. You were so freaking smart, which was something I truly admired about you.
I'm sorry I wasn't smart like you, + that I had no idea what was really going on inside your head.
After you left, I hated that color, just like the rest. I ignored them all to avoid the pain of you leaving.
