*******! I scream into the air as the tears are rolling down my cheeks, I didn’t say it 21 days ago, but I’m saying it now! ******* for making me fall for you, I was happy before you came along and now I can’t go a day without a dull ache in my chest always reminding me of the hole I keep trying to patch.
Sometimes I wonder what the point was, why come into my life if you were just gonna walk away? So ******* and whatever good intentions you think you may have had, I just want to go back to before I knew about you and tasted a sample of what we could have been.

In an old small town at the top of a winding road there sits a small cottage house with boarded windows and a door that looks as though it has been kicked in multiple times. Passersby would assume the house had been abandoned many moons ago, but local townsfolk know that the house is home to the witch.
Though everyone knew the witch wasn’t scary, her house appeared to be haunted, and every fall the school kids would dare each other to survive what they called “the witches tour”. Some kids would come out crying, others laughing. One day, the witch heard a knocking at her door. A little girl, no older than six or seven stood at her door. “Here for a scare, come on in” the witch said while gesturing for the girl to come inside. The little girl entered the witch's home. The witch didn’t know why, but her palms became sweaty and she could feel tightness starting in her chest.
“I’ll start you off easy” the witch told the girl. “I’m not afraid of anything”. The girl responded back. The witch led the girl up the creaky stairs. When they reached the top of the stairs, bats began to fly overhead. The girl didn’t flinch, they kept walking down the cobwebbed hallway. The witch led the girl into her bedroom and told her to open the closet. The girl did as she was told, and opened the closet. Old skeletons started to fall, piling at her feet.
“I’m still not scared”, said the girl to the witch.
“You’re brave, I’ll give you that” said the witch as they walked out of the bedroom back down the hall into the bathroom.  Inside the bathroom, the girl could see the boa wrapped around the toilet, trying to free its long body from the pipes. Again the girl remained calm, not showing any signs of fear. This made the witch frustrated that nothing seemed to scare this child. The witch rushed down the stairs, her boots clacking on the wooden floor. She flung herself into her rocking chair next to the fire. The girl followed the witch downstairs, and sat on a stool in front of the witch. The witch had an idea, and pulled out her big book of fears. The witch began to show pictures of phobias to the girl. The girl looked at them with interest and entertainment. The witch, again frustrated, slammed the book shut, and film of dust floated in the air.
“You have to be afraid of something, everyone is afraid of something” the witch told the girl with exasperation.
“What are you afraid of”? asked the girl. The witch rocked back and forth in her chair. No one had ever asked her that before. “Ghosts”, the witch said with a tremble in her voice, “they always come back to haunt you” whispered the witch.
“Are you afraid of me”? asked the girl.
“Why would I be afraid of a child”? asked the witch, but then she looked closer at the girl and the ache in her chest began to grow tighter and she could feel the sweat form on her palms. “How did you find me”? asked the witch.
“I’ve been looking for you, I need to tell you something” said the girl.
The witch sat frozen in her chair, paralyzed by her greatest fear. The little girl climbed up on the witch's lap, grabbed her face in her small soft hands, and looked the witch in the eyes. “I’m proud of you and I love you” the girl told the witch before she nestled her head into the crook of the witch's neck.
Instinctively, the witch wrapped her arms around the little girl as she began to cry. The witch cried for so long that the little girl fell asleep in her arms. The witch rocked her until she fell asleep too.

In the morning, they woke up and the little girl told her it was time for her to go. The witch begged her to stay. The little girl told her she would always be with her, and to look in the mirror if she ever needed her.
The witch hugged the little girl goodbye and watched her skip down the long, winding road until she was out of sight.
In a small town at the top of a long, winding road, sits a beautiful cottage house with a tall oak tree, and a tire swing where the school kids play. In the house lives the witch, who maybe, never really was a witch after all.

I started writing again in hopes that it would take my mind off of you. How naive of me to think you wouldn't be my next muse.

What would you do if I knocked on your door tonight? You used to say I was always welcome anytime. Does that offer still stand, or has it expired? If my name popped up on your phone, would you answer it or let it ring? You said I could call you if I needed you, but that’s the thing—I never needed you, and I still don’t need you, but God, I want you so badly. It’s been 20 days and I can’t get you out of my head, and lord knows I’ve tried.
 I just want to be in your bed with our bodies entangled as close as we can get to one another, our lips getting chapped from kissing for hours. 
I hate feeling like we are unfinished business, a half-finished house, that's waiting for the tiles to come in. I just got the call letting me know the tiles came in, baby. So come back and let’s finish building this house so I can come home.

You didn’t want to leave any words left unsaid, so we laid it all out there on the table.
But that was then, and this is now, and I just wanted to tell you I miss you. Nothing more, nothing less, I just wanted you to know.

You told me you didn’t want us to have any words left unsaid that night, so I told you everything, but over-thinkers like us can never really leave a conversation with everything on the table.
I didn’t tell you thank you, thank you for making me want to be the best version of myself, and for making me feel butterflies I thought were dead forever.
I’ve had to keep my mind busy, for when it stops I always find my thoughts displaying our memories like art in a museum, I keep racing to the door, but it’s locked and I can’t escape, I feel trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
If you’re reading this I have only one more thing to say, it doesn’t come with subtext or any expectations, I just want to say I miss you.

I know I shouldn’t fall for you yet, but how could I not when you look at me with those piercing eyes and that friendly smile. You make me feel so safe, a safety I have never felt before.
We talk for hours, but when we say goodbye it only feels like minutes, I could spend days talking to you and never get bored. The first time you held my hand I knew I never wanted you to let it go, and when we shared our first kiss I couldn’t stop smiling the whole drive home.
I promised myself I wouldn’t fall too hard too fast, but here I am just hoping it all lasts.

It was 4:00 am they were laying in bed with their bodies intertwined. She looks up at him he asks her what she’s thinking about. “You scare me” she says with a soft tremble , “why”? He asks with a sweet concern. “Because you make me feel safe” he pulls her in tighter as she rests her head on his chest.

“What if”
The two words that can keep me up at night worrying or calm the wild storm within me. What if I fall for him, while I’m still not over you? What if he makes me forget us, but What if your memory never lets me create new ones with him?
What if he makes me happier than I knew I could be, what if he destroys me more than you did. What if we fight and I wish I was with you. What if he can put the pieces back together, what if he falls in love with me and I break him? What if he does what he promises, what if I learn to trust him, what if I love him too, what if we live a happy life together. But what if 10 years down the road I still love you?
-LH

Babe It's getting late and I'm tired, I better drive home now she whispered.
It was the last thing she actually wanted to do as she felt the weight of his body on her lap, with one hand intertwined with his, and the other caressing his back.
The moment was perfect, sitting in silence just being with him
she could stay like that forever, but she could  feel those three
poisoned words wanting so desperately to escape her mouth, fear
started to set in, a deep real fear that this could all be coming to an
end in a few short weeks, how could that be, they had been through
so much, always coming back to each other like a wave to its shore.
She promised herself she could do it, she could be friends with him, she
could separate her feelings from his tainted lips and electrifying body.
But as she leans down placing her soft gentle lips on his head it's clear it's
too hard, she needs to escape, she can't get this close again, just for him to
leave, so she'll lie and tell him she needs to go, kiss him goodbye and once
again drive home with tear stained eyes.  
-LH

For the first time in five years I didn’t wish him happy birthday, I wanted to, I opened the phone, I typed in his name and saw the last two messages from me, two years of happy birthdays with no response.
I closed the screen and put my phone down, it’s over, he’s become a ghost in my story while I’ve become another Skelton for his closet.
I thought I would cry when I passed the hotel we stayed at, the first time we celebrated his birthday together, tonight it was just another building on my drive home.
Although we will never be lovers again, my heart wishes him well, as I’ve finally found peace and healing in once meaningful, but now mundane days.

I was prepared for the text that never came, the ones where you say you miss me, and want me back, they prepared me for those.
I was ready for the tears and sleepless nights, and how they would slowly stop.
You see when you go through heartbreak people comfort you and try to give you advice on how to get over them.
You know what they don’t prepare you for? They don’t prepare you for pulling up to a stoplight at 4:20 on a Friday afternoon, looking to your left and seeing the ghost you worked so hard to leave in the past. You’re not prepared for the way your heart stops and you suddenly have to catch your breath. There will be aftershocks of emotions, wondering what you should do. You’ll have this sudden urge to text him, Don’t! The aftershocks will stop, he didn’t see you, he’s not thinking of you, and this isn’t a sign.
Here’s what you do, turn on Taylor swift (Red album is most sufficient),cry it out, order pizza, and watch Grey’s Anatomy until you fall asleep.
You’ll wake up and it will seem that nothing has changed, but trust me everything has. You faced the fear you kept hidden in the back of your mind and came out stronger than you’ve ever been.

They keep telling me not to give up on finding love, that “the one” is out there for me, the thing is I haven’t given up on finding love, I’m simply accepting the love around and within me.
I have spent years chasing that romantic fairytale love, following what I thought were signs to happiness, only to end up at dead ends.
After too many sleepless nights, I had to wake up to reality and see that I am already truly and deeply loved, realizing that put everything in perspective.
There’s nothing wrong with being single, I can still accomplish my goals and dreams, I will be a mother, and raise beautiful children.
Relationships and marriage is a beautiful thing, but so is single hood especially when you realize you can stop seeking love my dear, you are love, you are beautiful, and you are living a life to be proud of.

These days I get off on dramatic poetry. Clinging to the words the way my lips clung to yours. I get wrapped in the emotions while remembering how we used to get wrapped in the sheets.
The goosebumps you would leave have long faded, but the memories make my body ache for days. My entire body used to burn with passion, now only my cheeks burn from hot tears.
Your whisper in my ear would send chills down my spine, the nightmares do the same.
You’ll always be my one that got away, the    hole my heart will always try to fill with an inner monologue or free verse.

Caution tape where
Children once played, once laughter,
Now only kenopsia.

Cheers to the made up plays we performed with cousins on hot summer days.

Cheers to the years spent with babies, Barbie dolls, and a flair for the dramatics.

You gave me seven sisters, when the three real older brothers weren’t enough.

As I grew up, you grew with me, content to sit in a box on the shelf waiting patiently to help me escape, when I’ve spent too much time with reality.

One day I’ll leave this world, but you’ll stay to help another little girl find shapes in the clouds.

I need to run away, this whole **** town reminds me of you, so I’m hopping on a plane and going to the other side of the world, I need to see something new, to make memories with myself, ones that can replace ours.
I need to wake up in a bed we never shared, baptize myself in the ocean, and when I come up for air, the salt on my face wont be from the tears I’ve cried over you.
I’ll write our story down and leave it in this land of strangers, and hope it stays there.
See I’m running away from you, but I’m running away from this me too!

September 24, I sat in the passenger seat of your silver BMW as we talked about Oprah, and you pretended not to know the song “ Red Solo Cup.”
Two strangers conversed as if they were old friends catching up. You placed your hand on my knee, and without skipping a beat I rested mine on yours.
When we parked I kept talking hoping it would calm the butterflies in my stomach, but it was too late you lifted my chin with your curled index finger and placed your lips on mine.
The butterflies exploded sending an electrifying shock throughout my body. My  brain was on fire, as my lips melted into yours. You pulled away with a smile While I examined your eyes, to know if you had felt it too.

The sun shines through the window, as the sound of little feet pitter patter in.
Little arms reach up to be embraced, you hold on tight before the mornings of bed-headed, sleepy smiled, cuddles disappear too soon.
You place her tiny body on the counter, and let her stir the pancake mix as you pour the coffee and embrace your lover in a good morning kiss.
Time seems to stop as you relish in this perfect life you’ve built. The sound of plastic and batter hitting hardwood, pulls you back to reality.
A tremulous UH-OH, breaks the silence, as laughter fills the air, and you take in, your perfectly imperfect life.

I hate bouquets of flowers, the smell of lavender, and chocolate ice cream.
If you take me to a movie when I’m tired, be prepared for me to fall asleep halfway through, missing the best parts.
I’ll forget to put mascara on in the morning, but remember the shirt you wore on our first date, or the story you told about your sister in the second grade.
I know when to bite my tongue, but sometimes lose my tact.
I’m honest, independent, and can carry the groceries up three flights of stairs in one trip.
I’m not perfect, nor am I afraid to admit when I am wrong. I keep the doors to my heart locked up, but if you knock I might let you in.

I pray you become strong
But the world never makes you hard.
I pray you know joy
But also sadness and pain.
I pray you always speak the truth
But that you can recognize when to bite your tongue.
I pray you know how to lose
But also that you win gracefully.
I pray you have a wild soul
But always stay grounded
Finally I pray you know you are loved
Even through the storms.

When she asks about me,
Tell her everything, let the truth break, yet simultaneously heal her.
Tell her how I stayed too long, and gave you too many chances.
Tell her how I stayed up at night  painting all your red flags white, hoping to parley, but always surrendering.
Tell her about the night we met, and the last goodbye.
Tell her everything you never told me, why you stayed so long, but left so quickly.

Remember
That park we went to
The first month
We had met?
I walked through it yesterday,
It still smelled like you.

Six chairs sat around a table, just another mundane family dinner filled with the sound of clinking forks and arbitrary questions.
Nothing could have prepared them for the secret the youngest boy would spew out of his mouth. His little sister stares,mouth agape, for it wasn’t his secret to tell it was hers.
Forks hit ceramic plates, questions and phone calls ensue, “a seven year old doesn’t make this up” cries her mother.
The little girl in the sixth chair, sits with the world buzzing around her, somehow relieved and heavy at the same time.

They say a drunk mans words are a sober mans thoughts. Is that why you don’t drink? So you can protect the secrets you cling to like a rollercoaster to its tracks.
What if you pressed that bottle to your lips, and let the fire of your throat consume you, would you tell me you can’t stop loving me, or would you tell me I was a mistake and you wish you never met me?  Either way maybe I’d finally know the truth and whether it was safe to finally stop loving you.

The morning light shines through the window as the aroma of coffee fills the air.
He saunters in as she butters his morning toast. Their eyes meet, hers filled with innocence and love, his filled with secrets and tears. I’m sorry he begins as she sets his plate in front of him. The world seems to disappear as her head spins like a merry go round. She sits down at the table, he reaches across and grabs her hand, as she becomes paralyzed by shock and betrayal, unable to pull away she sits in silence, as hot tears fall and the coffee goes cold.

Another night, another drive. She fills the tank and presses her foot to the gas pedal, she doesn’t know where she’s going, she never does.
She follows the curves of the road, when she can feel the hot tears on her face, she turns the volume dial down, and lets the voices in her head escape, she doesn’t know who she’s talking to; maybe God, maybe herself, maybe just the universe.
When the chaos of her mind clears and her cheeks dry. She turns the volume dial back up, and heads home, knowing it’s only a matter of time until the road calls her back for another drive.

I know How to spell onomatopoeia, and that on average, cats have 244 bones in their body. I know how to kayak on the lake, and the oceans of the Bahamas are so blue, you’ll think they’re fake.
I know I walked away and said I was done, but I don’t know why every time I pass the motel 8, I think about your birthday night and how I left the ice cream in the freezer. I don’t know why I cried when I threw away the Taco Bell hot sauces in my cupboard, or why after ten months I still want you.

I can bathe a cat
Not even a single scratch
I can’t use chopsticks

I still pray for you, and no not that you’ll love me again or come back to me.
I pray that you’re happy, and that you’re growing as a person.
I pray that when you’re sad you seek God for comfort and peace.
Lastly I pray that you find love, love for yourself, a love for  Jesus, and love for the next girl you dare to call yours.
I pray for me too, I pray for me to stop wanting you.

Deodorant, shorts, socks
Sit quietly in a box
Just in case.




-LH

When people ask me what I miss about you, I tell them your body, I tell them how;
I miss your head and how smart you are, I miss learning from you.
I miss your eyes, and how I would catch you looking at me.
I miss your ears and how they would listen to me complain, or ramble on when I was excited.
I miss your lips, and all those nights of pillow talk.
I miss your chest, and how I would calm instantly when I laid my head on it.  
I miss your arms and the way they used to hold me.
I miss your hands, and how they would hold mine.
I miss hearing your legs walking up my stairs, and the way your warm feet would lay beside mine.
your body was my home, but now it’s burned down leaving me with nothing more than ashes and memories.

I woke up another year older, but I can’t say another year wiser, why? Because I still miss you, with every fiber of my being. Every 11:11 or birthday wish is just for you to come back. I keep dreaming you’re standing there with open arms and when I run into them it feels like home. I find myself lying to everyone, but most importantly me! Lying and telling everyone I’m over you and I don’t miss you. I keep thinking about the last time I saw you, I can still hear your laugh and see your face. We didn’t know it would be our last night together, but **** I wish I did. I would have held you a little tighter, kissed you a little longer, and not said goodbye so lightly, because now it’s really over, you’re not coming back this time, and never again will I call you mine.

I had a talk with the moon tonight he simply asked if I was alright. I told him no, see I have a bad a case of wanderlust and don't know what to do, there are so many places to see and so much to do.
I want to explore, fly, hike, and get away there are simply just not enough hours in my day.
I don't want to leave to run or to hide, but simply to be free, be young, and be wild.
Now the moon is a wise man who told me what to do, he said go spread your wings and just be you. Go now before you turn into dust, for that is the only cure for wanderlust.

I need to confront my feelings, I can’t keep running away, and then find myself in a puddle of tears on the flight home!
So I’m going to let myself be, let myself be mad,angry, hurt, sad, or whatever feeling comes to my heart. Then I’m going to welcome it, embrace it, make it a cup of coffee and let it visit as long as it needs to. Then when we are both ready I’m going to walk my emotion to the door and wish it well until the next time we meet.
It’s time to feel, and make peace with my feelings I pushed them away for too long I’m ready now.