Words like "It's okay" and "I'll understand for you"are flooding from your heart to my gut but keep getting lodged in my throat.
Like words that sound similar to "I love you" resonate like "I'm sorry"

Carnival lights
Your spinning eyes
Dizzy in a crowd so full of life.
Humid heat
Sun setting
Friday night
Streets filling.
My feet stumbling
Gravel crunching
Legs follow you toward a door.
Hands pulling
Shutter slamming,
Stepping into Last Word Book Store.

He told me his favorite part of summer was my hair dancing circles on his face.
He loved to gather all three feet of my locks in his hand and raise it up to toast the wind; each strand ricocheting off invisible corners of the air.
He never minded getting his fingers caught in tangles.
Twice I let him cut the elastic binding of my hair tie
just to see it all fall down my body.

I stood calm and sober starring into an unfamiliar bathroom mirror as I made his favorite part of summer fall into piles around my feet.

I know it's only my mind contouring his mouth into a smile and when I turn to walk away the velcro on his lips part; words like a choke-chain. But he has lyrics that remind him of somebody else etched into his hands, and she'll always be part of the plan.
He hums her song into my throat and we both pretend I don't understand.

I miss him most when he is here, when he is close enough I could reach out and touch him. But only in places that are becoming routine. I reminisce back to a time when he would handle me like glass, when he'd run his fingers though my unwashed hair while I pretended to sleep.
Our first embrace.
When we kissed on the end of my bed, his skin slippery with angst.
My clothes wrinkled, synched tight around my waist getting caught between myself and the covers.
We were two brand new tension filled lovers.

An abandon wear-house rooftop
- A story about your past
- A change unnoticed
- A change expected last
- A fortress of blankets
- A pen-cap game
- A vicious cycle, luring
- A brand new name
- A night in my living room
- A night on the town
- A tea *** simmering, but nothing simmering down

You read about my life in words you never hear.
Everything seems familiar but it's something you always feared.
His kiss isn't the same, his touch sparks a different match.
Who am I to compare the flame when its something we never had?
Its like re-watching a play and the main character has been replaced by an actor much less passionate, going places you never faced.