cold cigarette butts in the ashtray remind me of you; how we both smoked two packs a day way back when before my lungs couldn't take it you cut back with me. lying in bed in the place I found you reminds me of the first time we kissed way back when your innocence, I can still taste it on my lips if I try. albums of pictures of the life we built together; the promises we thought we'd always keep way back when before I skipped your funeral in order to get high.