Will the memories stay?
Awakeness precedes distress, worry, and over thinking—
reminiscing on each individual memory to the finest element.
Maybe, just maybe, they won’t leave me.

Will the memories stay?
Sitting up precedes heartache, pain, fret, and fearing the unknown—
each emotion runs rapid through me as I pack up the last few boxes.
Maybe, just maybe, they won’t leave me.

Will the memories stay?
Hug after hug precedes sadness, tears, trembles, but a slight glimmer at hope—
I see a stranger with a familiar face as I walk into the dorm, who is my slight glimmer of hope.
Maybe, just maybe, they won’t leave me…
  but I’ll make new ones instead.