There are always long nights when music doesn't help and alcohol doesn't help and crying just doesn't help.

There are always long days when my legs want to give out and my back is shaking and my heart breaks a little more each hour.

And there will be times in the middle of the night when I want nothing more than to call you and remind you I'm still alive.

To call and just hear your voice even through voicemail knowing you were real at one point in my life.

There are always going to be days when the sun shines a little less and the storms find their way into my heart.

There are always going to be days when I wake up happy and content and I can easily forget you were even a part of my life.

And there will be times in the middle of the afternoon when my mind wanders and I am not nearly as sad as I was a few days ago...

And knowing I am just a little less broken than l was yesterday brings me a little hope that I will move on.

It could have been a Sunday when the first glimpse of my unknown future would make itself known.

He was that mystery you never solve. The Nancy Drew case that kept you awake as a kid. The unknown if aliens are real or not. The uncertainty of who built the pyramids.

He was the first morning light and the darkest sunset you can imagine. His mind swayed from good to bad and bad to worse more often than not. He was the calm before the storm. The rain before the hurricane.

It could have been a Sunday when my life decided to take the turn down the wrong alley way on the middle of the night for him.

He was the softest linens on a freshly made bed. He was the rough hands of a man who worked hard. He was the dream I couldn't remember until you said the one word that brought it all crashing back. He was nostalgia and memories.

But he was different.
He let things change him and his past caught up with his future.
He let me change.
And my past caught up with him.

And maybe it was a Sunday... I can't be too sure when my future became uncertain.

Now if you asked me about my version of heaven if say it smelled of vanilla and lavender. I would tell you the walls were made of teal and there would never be ceilings just clouds that hung above. There would be beautiful redwood trees surrounding the ocean so I could sleep.

Now if you asked my my version of heaven I would tell you about the daisies and the piles of autumn leaves. I would tell you there was a constant nostalgia feeling.

And if you asked me about my version of heaven I would tell you that for once it didn't involve you. I wouldn't remember the smell of your cologne or the natural wave in your hair. I would never remember the green hues in your eyes and that breathtaking smile.

Because to be constantly reminded of the passion and the person I can't have is not my version of heaven.
It's my hell.

I found you somewhere between the subway to heaven and hell.I felt like we were always destined to be lost together.

I saw you staring at your one way ticket and your empty luggage with such disdain and yet such curiosity.

I saw you cursing at the flickering light above you but pacing the hot ground below you & I couldn't help but wonder if we were headed to two different places for the first time.

It Was then you saw me leaning against the wall with my ticket in hand and my empty luggage. For the first time in years you looked at me instead of through me.

You said " please know... That no matter where I go, heaven or hell, PLEASE know I never meant to hurt you the way I did."

And I said those words... The ones I knew I needed to finally say. The words that I didn't even know I was holding on to for so long.
Three words that held such power to destroy or change.


I said..." I hate you."
And we went our separate ways.

He tasted like vanilla and reminded me of sweet summer nights and old worn out leather jackets. He was the rain on a hot day; the day you're usually begging for more from. I fell in love with him fast and quick. The let down was just as fast as I heard from a friend he hopped a train out of town & he wasn't seen again.

He tasted like fall. Fallen leaves and broken tree branches. Hints of spiced tea and buttered toast at breakfast. He had dark brown hair and bright green eyes. He was the apple cider with a shot of whiskey you ached for when you're roaming for the perfect pumpkin. I lost him in a corn maze to a girl with yellow hair, he smiled and said he was sorry. I heard they got married & have a baby on the way.

He tasted like ashes of a cigarette that wouldn't quite go away. He was sweeter than expected and awfully romantic when it suited him. He wore ripped jeans and this ugly orange beanie. He was cold though.. At times like a winter storm. His icy ways hit me in the face a couple times. Last I heard he was in Chicago now with some girl names Roxanne beating her like he did me.

He tasted like... Valentine's Day. Chocolates and red wine and rose petals on your bed. He smelled like cologne and wore his hair slicked back in that gentleman way. He rarely smiled but when he did it could have lit New York for days. He tasted like... Memories. Like walking down the hallway in school; smiling with secrets only you knew. He rarely laughed... But he did... He could have made symphonies jealous with that sound.

He's married now, two kids and a perfect house. He still wears his hair slicked back and I heard he doesn't smile much at all these days. I saw him once, he flashed that grin so ever lasting and for a brief moment...we both remembered the days when it was he and I against the world.

Lately I’m obsessed with the black and white photos of the world. The way they bring out the details you didn’t think you’d see in your life.
Lately I’m obsessed with the hidden greyscale of my life. The little spots or blemishes I didn’t know I had in between the cracks of my mind.

Lately I’m obsessed with knowing all I can know about how to forget my past. How to find those ancient remedies or dark coffees and fruity teas that will stop the pain in my heart for a little while.

Even though these obsessions seem so tiny compared to my big thoughts and wild dreams.. I can’t stop thinking of what’s next. Mystery lies on the horizon of my new obsession & how I will handle it.