Good riddance
Cold white hands on hot faces, the smell of cinnamon and honey, lingering laughter and morning shouts that always woke me up—goodbye. Nautical drawings and white walls, baize carpets my mother reminded me to keep red Kool-Aid off of—Goodbye. Hill side view, and lazy Sunday nights, country music I learned to like—Goodbye. Clean walls and summer scented pillows, glass pigs, and half empty memories—Goodbye… Farwell, and perhaps good riddance.


