"We had a spot in Prospect Park where we smoked a multitude of blunts over the course of 2 and a 1/2 years. It became our spot; a cement structure sprouting from the ground, almost shaped like a tombstone laying horizontally on the grass. It was located in the far side of the park hidden from the main road and passing Park Slope parents chiding their children. The spot was host for countless days and nights through Winter, Spring and Fall, since I was gone for the Summer. But when I left that Summer a lot changed. In the words of Drake you "started wearing less and going out more." We always had this disagreement about cat-callers and guys that approached you. You thought I was obsessive and jealous whereas I digressed and admitted only I knew what their agenda was. Regardless of all that we crumbled. We went back to that spot a couple times after the summer but it didn't feel the same. You felt detached and I had a relapse. Time passed by and then you were on some creep's lap. This is where I smirk and say "bars."