we can fly the jets. all to the moon. fueled by love. hating everything we leave behind.

her love takes hold. remembering life as it used to be, it's more like dreaming of someone else's life. there's no use in not trying for something grand. we're only going to end up ruined and broken anyways. her love is a reminder. it's something that can't slip through her fingers one day. she can't even hold it in her hand. sometimes she's not even sure it was ever there. but every now and then it grips her, like comprehending life in its entirety is almost within reach. then it slips away.