The Fillmore District

When I close my eyes, I could see the route to the Mortuary. The smoke that's coming from that place and the smell of BBQ next door always seem to annoy me.
There's a part of me that felt stuck in time, unable to keep going. The fog, the chill that never dissipate from my memories, ever so vague, ever so vivid.
It's like, there's a part of me that is still living there, a lonely playground where one shall never mature.
As if I'm waiting for him, refusing to let go of the memories, something that probably have left me a long time ago.