My memories of you are hardened caramel. They are frozen sweetness. They are amber hued recollections of a time I thought you loved me ( and a time I did not love you), and of a time I realized I loved you more than my own own life (and of the realization you never cared for me in the least). My memories of you are sweetened amber, running down the oaks and the elms. Do you remember those trees? Oh, where are they now...

In the wood chipper, you respond.

Or was that me...?

It was always me.