Truly, it was complicated.
It was oranges and blues so contrasting I couldn't tell if it was summer or winter.
It was the smell of lemons and the taste of sugar, but was it really lemonade or poison in disguise?
Captured memories in photographs around the walls of this cage.
I wanted to run.
I need to run.
The wind picked up outside and my urge to move cam as fast as the storm.
It was always so complicated.
I never understood why we couldn't just slow down and dream a little.
Slow down and feel a little.
Truly, It was complicated.
It was New York.
La vie en rose playing in the background as you read a script you wrote the morning before.
The way your blue eyes look so sad and yet so peaceful and you smirk for me and me alone.
The way your hands are rougher then they should be but touch me softer then they should as well.
We were passing cars in the night.
Looking for each other as destinations we would never get too.
It was North Carolina.
It was green. So much green.
It was airports that seemed to hold too many tears and not enough smiles.
It was road trips that blossomed into a never ending love and irrational fear.
It was summer in July and the way your lips found mine in every moment of every time.
You were the light I had been searching for my whole life.
And you became the darkness that was always there under my skin.
You are my unfinished book and my unfinished heart.
It was California.
It was never enough and thoughts that don’t ever truly go away.
It was watching you leave.
Your fresh start, your growth.
My jealousy, my envy.
My wishful and spiteful thoughts of wanting to be in your shoes but not wanting you enough.
It was Nevada.
Damaged and uncontrollable.
The never ending fighting and back and forth insecurities.
Your ability to make me swoon and cry in the one sitting was gold.
The unquestionable loyalty I had to ruining my own life.
The sadness and depression.
The love I had but never dared speak of.
The way you broke me down and don’t understand my feelings still to this day.
***** and *******.
Your true loves.
It was Me.
My will to love too much and yet not enough.
My hazel eyes and mismatched hair.
My gaze of sadness and darkness watching the men come and go from my life.
My inability to connect because of damaged heart strings.
It’s also my strength in finding my flaws.
The power I have to change.
The growth at self confidence and care I am working on.
It’s someday... someday finding someone who won’t leave.
Sunday light drenches the window where you may upon the unmade bed.
You and your roughed up hair.
Watching the sun bathe your skin you smell like musky woods and fresh rain and I want to capture it in a bottle forever.
It could be our secret.
It could be just for me & you.
Saturday is fragmented glimpses of our future and I know that when we awake the morning will have to keep the secrets of the night before.
My body tangled in your black sheets.
Strands of vanilla and lavender scented hair scattered around your bed.
Your arms graze my fire skin and I am alive with lust and hints of love.
Sunday holds the key to happiness.
Sunday’s were made for love.
She was fascinating.
Not because she was drop dead gorgeous or oh my god beautiful.
No, she had humor she used as a weapon.
No, she had love she used a shield.
No, she had strength hidden behind layers of wisdom.
She was fascinating.
In the way that made men cringe and made women envious.
She was the type of girl you wanted to get to know if only to keep her close by.
It was like strawberries and champagne.
It was like the taste of sugar when my lips pressed against yours.
It was like the rush of *******.
It was the morning air filled with regret and sorrow.
It was the way you touched me that made me heart race.
It was the look you gave me when you said you wouldn't be back tomorrow.
I like the games, they keep me on my toes.
but i hate the way my heart feels when we are done.
I like the games but they fill me with woes.
It was like strawberries and smoke.
It was the way you asked me my name when we first met.
It was the way i wished you'd just choke.
emotions are high.
I am high.
My life... is low.
And in this weird dream I had things were brightly technicolor and everything played out so smooth.
It was strange and yet warm.
It was soft and beautiful.
But of course, I knew it was a dream, because you chose to stay with me.
You chose to sleep in late and I would wake you up with breakfast in bed.
You chose to skip work so we could go see a movie together and we laughed and kissed.
You chose to hold my hand and pulled me up towards your bedroom again and again.
It was strange.
It was soft and beautiful.
It was just a dream.
We drink to forget the day to day routine's we have locked ourselves into.
We drink to remember the better days but if we drink too much it just makes it worse.
We drink to get rid of the nerves and hope it makes us charming and funny.
He asked me out for drink; so we drank.
He was beautiful in a classy way.
I loved his hair and those bright eyes and the drinks made him funnier then he was but I liked how he tried.
He told me stories about Christmas when he was ten.
He told me about his scars and his weird quirks people don't tend to notice.
He asked me for drinks and so, I drank.
I didn't tell him about Christmas when I was ten because my Christmas was filled with anger and screaming from my mother.
I didn't tell him about my scars because they came from drunken nights and fights with myself.
I didn't tell him about my quirks because I didn't have to tell him, he just seemed to know.
He told me I was quiet, something no one has ever told me before.
I smiled shyly and ordered another drink.
He grabbed my hand at the bar and I thought, wow, this is nice.
I also thought... how sad that a simple gesture can make me so self conscience and so sad.
How holding a beautiful, nice, and funny mans hand makes me think I am unworthy of such love.
And, so, I drank.
To... try and not self sabotage the possibility of a love that could last.