I used to know this girl. She was the fashionable out of the two of us. I think of her often, she left me or maybe I left her; we stopped talking in 2006 when I moved. But our distance grew in 2007 when I couldn't seem to contact her, the person I missed the most. I lost her in my methods of assimilation, she forgot and I couldn't remember our friendship. It seemed like an alternate reality. Looking for comfort and love I didn't noticed she got packed away in an unopened box in the living room written with the name Precious. Maybe that was her when the mic to my beloved karaoke system broke. It was her when I wore my brown boots in the dirt, it was her when I ran on that track during vigorous practices, it was her when I wore a fanny pack. It was her and sometimes when I realized I lost her I look in the places where we enjoyed each others company the most. I catch a Jetblue flight to the Big Apple in search of her, sometimes I find her sometimes I don't and most of the times she doesn't back with me on the plane. She is my fourteen year old self, when I fall a look for pieces of her to cover my scars. She was a different kind of artist from I am now she was conscious but never truly had time to think as meticulously as she does now. She was free and she was unaware of peoples' harsh motives, so I guess you can say she was blindfolded and deaf but not naive. I miss her so I look for her every summer even december if I can in the Big Apple where we enjoyed each others company the most. So what is happiness the days when we reunite or the days where she is forgotten and I just live my life.
The "Lost" Phoenix