The past has since flew up with the wind, taking the memories of September bliss. Loads of unrealities cinch up the spine, as it vividly dresses up unsent words for its author. I choke down the words that I used to utter, and question the how of its worth the sleepless nights.

I recount every gut-wrenching, sweet like honey, river of tears written in my pages. Arguing an answer, "Were you worth the giddy I could get, when you were around, talking on end as I stared into the wall of...