Drowning was never an option for me so I took the long way and swam back to shore.

I could have asked for help but when you're higher than a kite what's the point? The air rushing through your hair is pure and utter ecstasy.

Every touch, every sound, every single color... Magic couldn't begin to describe how I felt.

They say it only takes one time but it took a couple times and a couple different drugs but I think I've got it now.

I kept falling faster and deeper down this rabbit hole with little to no escape and the whole world was tipsy turvy by the time I figured out I needed help.

I lost that weight finally, I also lost some friends and family along the way... But I gained a best friend, or so I thought, one who would never let me down ( literally).

I couldn't be sure if the high was enough but it felt right at the time... Everything felt so... Good...

And the time came when I realized I had to stop feeling good and get back to reality... Who knew it would feel this bad?

I dug my grave and as far as I was concerned I had laid my head down deep beneath the earth ready to lay in the bed I made...but then you came around.

You got me back up.
Told me pretty things that made me feel Better than these drugs... Which was almost (easy enough?) hard to believe.

And drowning was never an option... So I swam back to shore leaving the high to fall slowly back to earth.

I'm hard to love.
I am stubborn and I never take compliments.
I'll deny you every chance I have just because I'm scared.
I'm mean and indecisive and sometimes I make irrational choices.
I don't like being told what to do & I hate admitting when I'm wrong unless I know I'm wrong.
Sometimes I drink to much sometimes I cuss to much and sometimes I cry too much.
I may be hard to love and a bit cynical sometimes but given the chance...
I will love you harder and stronger than anyone else in the world.
I will show you compassion and a deeper side of me than anyone has seen.
I will be your best friend and lover....
I may be hard to love but when I love I go hard.

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.