Ghosts of Summer

When I close my lids and unbox these dusty memories, I discover that it's hard for me to recapture the ghosts that summer turned over in its warm hands of variance. They were people that existed only for a season that would leave me dreaming of true face-to-face talk, like when I first learned we four sailed the same sea of soullessness and could reignite each other's lives after the dorm lights had died, feelings I wish I'd never felt if they would be replaced by repetitive typing on a keyboard back in my humid apartment where desperation sets in, four lifetime years later, and half the country away.