Dancing through the bright and loud New York streets my little gypsy queen floated by with her camera in hand.
Snapping memories here and there she found love around those ***** streets and neon lights.

He tried to grab her waist and pull her in but she was too preoccupied with the memories she was making.
Her hair sparkled like glitter and her smile could make the ice caps melt.

Singing to the beat of the sirens and the moving to the beat of the traffic she weaved in and out of local shops like the complex braids in her hair.

She was the queen of the grungy corner kids waiting for one more cigarette.
She was the goddess of adventure and the muse to all who craved the lust of life.
She was the Gypsy.
She was the Artist.

Dancing through the crowded New York underground, my little gypsy queen was unbelievably and undeniably herself in every way possible.

He likes to come back when I least expect it and sometimes I wonder if it's because its familiar or if it's the sheer fact we are both missing something in our lives.

He likes to tell me when he's drunk and filled with lust -- and because I'm lonely I get off knowing I'm on his drunken mind.
He likes to tell me the things he would do if I was in the same room- but we both know that's just drunken words and actions always speak a little louder.

He's clumsy with words, but also eloquent enough to get me hot.
His tongue plays tricks.
His lips speak riddles meant for only me to solve.

I think somewhere deep down he knows we aren't good for each other and that my heart lies with another man.
I think somewhere within he numbs the fact I've broken his heart numerous times simply to get off.
I think somewhere in his heart... he knows I'm no good for him.

But those lips speak riddles against my skin.
His tongue leaves my body crawling for more.
One day he will  stop calling and we will be left with clumsy words and broken memories.

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.
But
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 me.
It’s them.
It’s someday... someday finding someone who won’t leave.

Who was I to tell you that you were wrong and I was right?
I didn't know a **** thing about loving you.
I told you to be patient with me I asked you to let me have some time...
And you told me it would be alright if I never loved you.
Who I was I to ask you to wait for me to change my mind?
To ask you to make everything seem alright?
I wore this mask with you and it just wasn't okay.
I didn't know a **** thing about loving myself.
I asked you to change your way to be a different kind of man.
And you asked me to tell you when you would be enough.
Who am I to deserve such a caring man who would change his ways with no questions asked?
I don't deserve a **** thing especially you.