"Do you remember when you used to love me?"
"Of course, I never stopped."
"I'm so happy to see you...I'm so happy you're here...I'm so happy to see you."
Hunched over pools of pink on the concrete I used a bar napkin to dab your tears.

You looked up at me on the dark street and I saw a lamb in those droopy eyes.
You looked up at me from white sheets and I saw Vegas in your smile.

How do you throw the good away at the chance of something better?
What if the grass is filled with snakes and glass on the otherside?
What if I'm scared?
What if the risk ends up not being worth it?
What if what is good is good enough?

you had multiple options, at first there were so many open doors in front of you, but the longer you waited, the more started closing, until only one was left open in front of you, so reluctantly, you walked in, better than being stuck out there alone, with only a hint of what could be lying behind the door you stepped into.
I understand.
If you happen to get cabin fever, I hope you know that the door isn't locked. And there is no water outside, keeping you here.
If you need to get a breath of fresh air, I hope you know that I will smile with each inhale if you are happier there.

I know your soul is drenched and the water keeps rising inside of you.
I know you're worried about your lungs filling up and your veins exploding from the pressure and your brain floating around in your skull.
But I know the worst pain is still in your heart, the only part that's dry, cracking and swelling and pumping too hard.
But you're not the flood, you're not the cause of it, and you're definitely not the destruction caused by it.
You're a great swimmer, with long flowing red hair, eyes like the ocean and a smile like the sun, rising beautifully and brightly at the end of a long storm.
You're the help, the relief, the last bit of hope.
Let the water wash away the heartbreak, the anxiety, the sorrow.
Let it revitalize you.
Let it be the end of an exhausting era, and the start of a serene one.

Somethings different in my head, somewhere along the road of growing up, something changed. I'm not sure when and I definitely don't know exactly what it was that switched and sent me into this intense spiraling, the strangest sensation in my cranium.
you know how when something is spinning so quickly it appears to be standing still?
it's not thoughts.
I wish I could still concentrate on or articulate those things.
Sometimes my head feels like a hive, thousands of swarming bees buzzing, worried only about their honey, when something comes along and shoves a fist inside, grabs a handful, and leaves the bees in a vehement and mettlesome rage. Exasperated and feeling defeated, but determined to please their queen, they never stop.
It never stops.
It never stops.

It grinds it's teeth. It yells "listen to me, do what I say," it yells.
It hardly ever sleeps, and when it does it only dreams of hands reaching - grabbing, jutting out from very direction,
desperately hoping to find something to hold on to.

God, it must be a magic trick, how you can make lights from pollution seem like the city beyond golden gates, the windows down, scarlet curls of frizz illuminated.
I was jealous of the shotgun, and you asked me if I had a good view, and the only answer I could think of was that I didn't, at least, not of you.
Four seasons later and I'm back in the backseat of your car, it's summer again, only this time everything is different.
You still somehow manage to summon the small hidden youth I've got left in this old soul, even though the roads are blocked and sirens are on patrol.

It's not often that mere conversation like we had makes me feel so intrigued, but when you sang those few songs your voice made me feel tranquility in a dose I've truly never felt. My heart fluttered, and if I hadn't been floating in a pool I would have had to sit down, my knees were so weak. You couldn't see in the darkness but I was in awe, so much so that if we had been standing in a room full of art, I only could have looked at you.
I swear you turned the night sky into tie dye, a hippy haven for my mind. On heavens hill I found my soul, all my anxieties flowed out. I drank more slowly once your voice came forward, it was much more intoxicating than the lager I had chosen. I knew all these feelings may have been the alcohol, but I decided, **** it. I never feel intrigued, I was so surprised to have my interests peaked, that I would entertain myself and you, because for once, I didn't freeze.

I awoke the next morning, after sleeping off my chemicals, both the ones I ingested and the ones my body produced at the sight of such a pleasing specimen of the female form. I found my head hurting, but remembered the sights I saw, the glow of the stars and string lights, melted in my memory to form a tie dye blot, the colors meddled together. It was as astronomically beautiful as you had been the night before.