For the most part, I’ve succeeded in putting you into my past. Keeping you in the back of my mind. Under tight lock and key. Under more recent memories. Though days like these; where it seems that I’ve retraced my steps of summer, you escape back into my thoughts. I try to force you back down, but the memories are too vivid, too real. As if they were only yesterday. The only thing worse than you reopening my past, is that I still wish that you are in my present.